


Rise

by Jenner (bella)



Series: The Rift Series [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Adopted Children, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Dubious Consent, Extended Families, Forced Bonding, Forced Marriage, Hybrids, Intentional Communities, M/M, Miscarriage, Mpreg, Pack, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Shitty Teenage Boyfriends, Snow, Teenage Rebellion, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-24
Updated: 2011-03-24
Packaged: 2017-10-17 05:58:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 25
Words: 37,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/173649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bella/pseuds/Jenner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part I of <b>the Rift Series</b>.</p><p>Ten years before the Wolfish Empire establishes peace, Róan is a young man captured by wolfes from the underground colonies, who becomes an unwilling pioneer for mankind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

His head was spinning when he came to, but he managed his way to his feet anyway and blinked around the dark room. He tried to walk, but didn't get far - he hit the floor hard and just barely managed to catch himself. His legs were still wrapped up in the sheet. A sheet. That meant a bed. A rustling sparked his adrenaline and his eyes adjusted immediately to the dark. There was someone else in his bed. Another wave of spin hit him, hard, and he fell heavily to the ground. The figure in his bed shifted, then moved, then rose as it realized it was alone.

"Róan?"

The figure was at his side in moments, but what was that moving behind him? Attached, like an extra appendage....Like a tail. Without will, Róan screamed. Then a hand was over his mouth, roughly, though another stroked his shoulder in a calming sort of way.

"Róan, it's alright. It's alright, now, be quiet. Enough, alright. It's the middle of the night, still, and you'll wake the entire quarter. Be quiet." the last words were spoken with such force that Róan found himself obeying, and when he spoke, it was a whisper.  
"You're a wolfe."  
It was halfway an accusation, halfway a denial.  
"Yes."  
Panic set in immediately, and Róan began to struggle anew, which proved fruitless, as his captor much outstripped him in size and strength. Finally still, he asked,  
"What do you want with me? Why am I here? I don't know anything, if that's what you think. And what I do know, I won't tell, so you may as well kill me now, you know."  
"Róan." the word was again a command. "It's not like that."  
Then there was something in the words, something in the way he spoke; in the way he moved his hands on Róan, gently, like a lover, and Róan just knew.  
"Bastard."

This was not a struggle. Róan was determined to get free, or die in trying. Wisely, the larger male let him go. Immediately, Róan was as far away as he could manage while not yet free of the entangling sheet. He stopped with his back against the wall, breathing hard.

"You breached me." Róan's voice was plaintive, and the wolfe tilted his head to the side, analyzing this piece of information.  
"You weren't -"  
"Stay away from me!"  
"Alright, Ro, take it easy."  
"My name is **Róan** , and you stay the hell away from me. You touched me."  
"Róan."  
"Stay back! Keep away from me, or I swear you'll regret it."  
The voice was irritatingly calm when it responded.  
"Where are you going, Róan?"  
Róan sensed a trick, and didn't respond.  
"This room's not very large, you know. There are no windows. You don't know where the door is, and it's not to your advantage to get out anyway. There are thousands more of my kind here, and each and every one of them will bring you right back to me. You are in a wolvish compound. Your clan is gone, split up and moved on. You are alone."  
Róan was proud of how little his voice wavered when he responded.  
"I don't believe you."  
"Really?"  
The wolfe shifted his weight and Róan jumped a little, but held his ground.  
"If the door weren't to my advantage, you wouldn't have tried to stop me."  
The figure shrugged and moved, and now Róan could just barely make out some details in the night as he got to his feet - mostly impressions of size.  
"Have at it."

Róan made a mad dash immediately for the area he'd figured (or deduced) to be the general direction of the exit, and found no knobs or buttons, only a touchpad on the wall. He first felt disappointment, but surprisingly, it reacted to even his light touch and slid open. Then he stopped, or was stopped, rather, because there were two wolfish guards there, not larger than his host, but still of notable size, and they held two very imposing weapons across his path. Their gaze was on him, and he took in their overall look with wide eyes. They wore light gray, simple tunics, over which stretched breastplates made of some flowing metal substance unfamiliar to Róan. Their muscles bulged beneath it.

"Are you satisfied?"

The voice was behind him, only now it had a body, which was close - too close and so Róan did the only thing he knew and elbowed backwards with all his strength. The element of surprise pushed the scuffle in his favor, and he was halfway down the hall before he found himself being bodily lifted by one of the guards.

"Put me down, you damned dog! Put me down and let me go! I'm not your prisoner and I'm not your slave!"

The wolfe, whose face Róan could now see clearly in the lit hall, had recovered and was getting to his feet, one eyebrow raised in an expression that seemed more like amusement than anger. He had smooth, dark brown skin, darker than Róan's own, and long, thick, curly near-black hair (save the streak of grey running the left side.) As the wolfe stood, Róan could not help but be impressed by his full size. He had to be at least 6'8", and more than triple Róan's weight in muscle. The despair of his situation began to creep in, and he slackened in his restrainer's arms.

"Quite right you are. Put him down, please, Bavip."

The guard complied and Róan was planted firmly back on his feet, but the guard still declined to release his firm grip on his quarry. The captor wolfe approached him again, and now the expression of amusement his face had held earlier was gone, a fact which, Róan noted with some concern, pushed things decidedly out of his favor.

"I'll take him from here."

The guard released his grip on Róan at the same time the wolfe took hold of the back of Róan's neck and so he found himself guided rather forcefully back from whence he'd come.

He was placed, relatively gently, back on the bed, and a lamp was flicked on nearby, which cast the room into a soft glow. In other times, Róan would have admired the electric lamp, so unlike the basic torches he was used to. Instead, he was too taken with sneaking glances at the wolfe before him. He was large, even by wolfe standards, almost seven foot with broad shoulders that indicated a weight about 180 kg. His skin was the deep brown common to wolfes, smooth and glowing with the sheen of a man at the peak of health, and his hair was dark and thick where it was pulled back from his face. A silver streak ran the length of the left side, which made him look more distinguished than ridiculous, Róan decided, then immediately hated himself for the thought, and tried to focus on other details. The wolfe was clean-shaven, and his hair was in a thick bun.

"Are you satisfied, little one?"

There was teasing in the wolfe's voice, and Róan swallowed his embarrassment at having been caught staring. Then the words he'd used sunk in, and Róan, with at least his elementary education in wolfish matters, recognized the title immediately.  
"I am not your little one." he growled, although inside he rejoiced at his good fortune. Escape would be simple with such privileges as a mate was bound to receive. "I am not your mate."  
The wolfe simply grinned down at him.  
"Educated little thing, aren't you? Well, since you're awake, we might as well have a talk about what's going on."  
"I'm not really in the mood to talk."  
"You're not a lot of things today, are you? Well, tell me then, small thing, what are you?"  
Róan raised his chin, feeling a good deal freer now that he knew his standing in this whole kidnapping escapade.  
"I am Róan Arror Cleàm of the BlueMark clan, and you dogs cannot hold me prisoner here. My people will come for me. My brother will come for me."  
The wolfe looked at him, almost piteously, and Róan felt worry, but didn't let it show.

The wolfe rose again and went to a small bar across the room which Róan had not noticed.  
"I don't intend to hold you prisoner anywhere." The wolfe responded, opening a carafe to pour.  
"Oh really? Then why the guards?"  
"How old are you, Róan?"  
The wolfe was drinking something now, and Róan remembered his own thirst. His throat felt dry, itchy. He stared at the glass.  
"I don't know."  
"Don't know or won't say?"  
"I don't give intelligence to human enemies."  
An awareness of his body was filtering in now that the fear-adrenaline had worn off, and Róan began to feel pains that he hadn't noticed before.  
"Enemy? We wolfes are likely the best friends you've ever had."  
Róan scoffed.  
"You're responsible for more human deaths since the Quake than the Louts and Psires combined."  
The wolfe looked hard at him.  
"I hate these misinformation campaigns. Who told you that?"  
"All humans know that."  
The wolfe blinked at him for a moment.  
"I'm going to choke the truth out of those Louts one day."  
"Leave them out of this."  
Now it was the wolfe's turn to scoff.  
"You think they're your allies, but Róan, if you had any idea what they had in store for you, I doubt you'd be so quick to jump to their defense. Do you want a drink?"  
"No, you'll just drug me. What do you mean, what they have in store for me?"  
"Not you, specifically," the wolfe corrected, "Just your species."  
He handed Róan an orangeish liquid which smelled familiar.  
"Drink up."

Róan thought to refuse again, but realized that if the wolfe had wanted to drug him, he would surely do so anyway. The drink was probably alright.

"Answer now. How old are you?"  
"What is it to you?"  
"I'd just like to know, Róan." Róan swallowed a cold knot of fruit juice.  
"Because you raped me?"  
"Róan - "  
There was worry in the voice, but Róan ignored it.  
"Would it settle your conscience to know I'm 14?"  
"Róan."  
This time, just patience underlay the command. The simple strength of his name was alluring.  
"Humans are never really sure, but I think I'm 24."  
Relief turned the wolfe's tense features into a smile.  
"Perfect."  
Róan's world spun and the fear returned immediately.  
"Leave me alone."

Noting how the mood had changed, the wolfe set down his drink and began to approach the bed. Róan scooted away, towards the door, as he got closer, but kept a firm hold on the glass.  
"Róan, we have to talk."  
"No."  
The wolfe looked at Róan in surprise.  
"I don't want to talk. I certainly don't want to talk to you. I want to go home. I want to see my family. I want to go free."  
"You're free now, and you'll see your family this evening, at the night meal. As for home..." The wolfe went to the window to draw back the floor length shades which had made the side of the room look like just another blank wall.  
"This is your home now."

Outside, Róan could see that he was, indeed, in a compound. Automatically, he rose and went to the window, because he had to know. Though the cloak of night still hung over the place, the moon was bright, and Róan could make out spires and towers, high walls, windows, and interior porticos running around a courtyard at least 800 yards long. Plants grew all around. Róan shook with the enormity of the revelation.

"Where am I?"  
"This is BlackForest. It's our pack, and where we live now. It is the southernmost Wolfish territory."  
"Southernmost?"  
"From Carolina to the Georgia coast. A long way from where we found you."  
Róan backed away from the window. The room was spinning again.  
"I think I need to sit down."


	2. The Breakdown

When he came to, he was lying in the bed again and the wolfe was holding something cold and heavy to his forehead.

"It's alright. Take it easy." he was also holding a cup of water, and Róan took it gratefully and drank. The wolfe was lying on the bed with him and Róan wanted to move away but found he hadn't the strength. The wolfe must have sensed this, because next, he said, quietly:  
"You're going to have to get used to me."  
Róan concentrated on his water.  
"I'm not so bad."

Róan ignored him and took the cold compress, which turned out to be a wrapped slab of frozen meat, from his head. In the moment that he was unguarded, the wolfe took his chin and turned his face for a kiss.   
Róan resisted immediately.  
"Stop it! Leave me alone!"  
The wolfe just watched him, curiously, and this only incensed Róan further.  
"You have no right to touch me. Leave me alone!"

Even though his voice was authoritative, his body was shaking all over. The wolfe continued to watch Róan, and his head tilted a little to the side in interest.  
"I have every right. I have claimed you, little one, and our mating will be finalized within a moon." the wolfe nuzzled his face. "You don't have to be afraid, you know. I won't hurt you."  
Róan couldn't believe his audacity.  
"I'll kill you if you ever touch me again, dog."   
His voice was fierce, but the wolfe only regarded him with masked amusement.  
"I am your mate. Of course I will touch you again."  
"Not if I have anything to say about it."  
"You're not stronger than me." was all he responded, lightly, before moving off of the bed. There was no threat in the words, just fact and promise.   
Róan spoke his response quietly.  
"Then why do you need two guards in the hallway?"  
The wolfe's head snapped around.  
"Are you implying that I am unable to control you myself?"  
Róan sat back and smirked, glad he'd hit a nerve.  
"Take it any way you like. I just know what I see."

The wolfe's eyes narrowed and he started towards Róan. Róan paid no mind until the wolfe began to remove the long robe he'd been wearing. Then he was on his feet in seconds, pressed against the wall on the opposite side of the room.  
"No!" It came out more like a plea than a command.   
The wolfe paused, but resumed his approach and when Róan tried to run, he found he was blocked and remembered that he'd heard rumors of how quickly wolfes could move, but hadn't believed them. He was trapped, he realized, in a corner - a foolish and elementary mistake. His only hope was authority, so he looked the wolfe square in the eyes.  
"Don't."  
The wolfe tightened the cage of his body around Róan, leaning in close to the human's ear.  
"Say it properly and I might find patience with you."

Properly? What did that even mean? He wasn't going to beg, if that's what the wolfe thought. The wolfe's voice interrupted.

"Say my name and title."  
Róan tried to think, but drew a blank.  
"I - I don't know."

Rough hands flipped him around and took both his wrists in one hand. A strong leg was wedged between his, and Róan found himself face first into the wall and completely vulnerable. Another stupid mistake. Why was he so unguarded? Panic set in again, and he began to fight.  
"Let go of me!"   
There was another hand now, working its way up the side of the thin tunic he'd been wearing and Róan wriggled to try to get away, but the wolfe was indeed much stronger than he'd displayed, and Róan found himself held more or less immobile.   
"Stop! I don't know! I don't know your name! Please, stop."  
There was a pause.  
"I am your alpha. My name is Marik."  
Róan nodded.  
"Please stop, Marik."  
The wolfe shook him and his cheek struck the wall.  
"Alph - Alpha Marik."  
Marik shook him again, harder, and this time the room actually kind of spun a little.  
"Your alpha."  
"Marik. My alpha. Stop, please, stop."

Even as he said those words, Róan began to suspect that there was more to them, but found he didn't care any more as the pressure on his back was gone immediately. The wolfe moved away to stand at the window, where the barest hint of sunrise was beginning to show. Róan remained where he was, rubbing his wrists.

"Do all wolfes treat their mates this well?"  
Marik simply turned to look at him, and Róan was silent again and cursing his tongue.  
"Go and lie down."  
Róan bit his lip, wishing he'd learned to shut up earlier, because now he was right back where he'd started. Time for new tactics.  
"I can't."  
"What's that?"  
"Please, Marik. I just - I can't right now."  
The wolfe's expression quickly turned to concern.  
"What's wrong? Are you hurt?"  
Róan reddened and backed away.  
"Leave me alone." firmer, this time, but without meeting his eyes. Marik guessed the meaning.  
"You're sore. I've breached you too roughly. I'm sorry, puppy - I didn't mean to hurt you."  
"You didn't mean to hurt me." Róan repeated, disbelieving. The piteous mask fell and a floodgate opened. "You raided my clan. You. I saw you, you know. You burned my home. You kidnapped me. Are my leaders dead? I don't know. And my friends? They're probably locked in rooms just like this one, waiting to be beaten and raped and eaten by wolfes just like you."

Here, Marik felt pressed to interrupt.  
"We don't eat people! That's a vicious - "  
" _Shut. Up._ " Róan was livid enough that Marik quieted and tucked his tail down behind him. The human went on. "You held me down for the injections. I remember that because you were worried. You asked them if I would know it was you - if I would remember. They told you no. You brought me here. You - did things to me. You're keeping me in this room - terrorizing me! You threw me against a wall, even, just now. You won't let me free, you won't let me see my family, you won't even let me bathe. But now you say you didn't mean to hurt me."

Róan looked back up to meet the eyes which were staring at him, shamefaced and unable to attempt even the slightest masking of emotion.   
"Róan, please - "  
"You brought me back here last night. I was drugged. I couldn't move."  
"Róan, I tried to be gentle - "  
"How could that even be enjoyable for you? They told you it would be best to do it then - so I wouldn't remember. So it wouldn't be so _traumatic_."  
Memories were breaking over Róan in waves, and he was speaking half to himself when he told the story.  
"Róan, it was neces - "  
"They said you had to change me. What does that even mean?"  
Now the wolfe was silent. Tears, held back before, poured down Róan's face.  
"Sorry doesn't begin to atone for what you've done to me."  
"Róan, how could you remember - "  
"Let me go, just let me go, please let me go, Marik, alpha, my alpha, I'll call you anything you want, just please let me go!"  
Now Marik was beginning to feel a bit sick.  
"Róan - "  
"I'll never tell anything I saw, please - I'll just disappear, but please, you have to let me go!"  
"Róan - "  
"Why are you doing this to me?! Why won't you free me? Why won't you just let me go?!"  
Marik could sense the approaching hysteria and decided he had to do something, say something to dam the flow.  
"Róan, it's too late."

The assured finality gave Róan some strange comfort, and he fell silent. Marik felt horrible - like the lowest of beasts. Here his mate - obviously in name only - was before him, aching and terrified and it was indisputably his fault. He had no idea what to do, how to calm him, because now Róan was shaking uncontrolled and he wanted nothing more than to go to him. So he went and took Róan into his arms and the human cried there and was still crying when the doctor and the human nurse came at eight.


	3. Making Friends

"Róan, let's talk."

The Doctor had emptied the room and the hall of everyone but one guard, who was stationed far enough down that he couldn't hear what went on. Róan sat hunched over on the bed, a hangdog expression on his boyish face.

"Everyone wants to talk to me. I don't want to talk. I want to go home."  
The Doctor nodded.  
"That's understandable."  
"Why am I here?"  
"You live here now."  
"In this room? It's empty."

It was ridiculous, but it was the first thing that occurred to him. How could he live here? In this room with one big window and nothing else, no communication, no bathroom, no way out...Then he refocused on the older wolfe in front of him - the doctor. The doctor was taking things out of a bag he'd brought and setting them on a small folding table. Róan scooted back immediately.

"What are you doing?"  
"Hmm? Oh, just taking some things out for our visit."  
Róan started to understand what was going on and he jumped up, fatigue showing as his muscles ached to do so.  
"No! No more injections, nothing, don't touch me!"  
The doctor held up both hands, in one of which he held a small tube.  
"This is a thermometer. For taking your temperature. No injections, I promise. No drugs, unless you want something for your soreness."  
He picked up a small metal object.  
"This will take your heart rate, which I bet is racing right about now. It's OK, Róan. You can come sit down. No one's going to hurt you or poke you or cut you up. Now, if you come over here, maybe we can talk about getting you to your real room."  
Róan edged back towards the bed.  
"This isn't a real room?"  
The doctor chuckled and held up a short metal object.  
"Tongue depressor. Lets me check out your teeth. No, this is just a holding room. You were brought here temporarily, until your suite could be prepared for your arrival, and to give you and your mate an opportunity to initiate your change outside of your permanent home. You'll be moving very soon, to Marik's quarters a few levels up."  
"I don't want to live with Marik, and he's not my mate."  
"That's fine." the Doctor had a very calming voice, Róan noticed. He pulled a chair up to sit next to the bed.

"Are you feeling OK?"  
Róan stared at him.  
"He raped me. How could I be OK?"  
the Doctor looked remorseful.  
"I'm very sorry that things went this way. We are trying to develop ways to ease the...trauma of initiation. That's part of why I'm here."  
Róan scoffed.  
"Only part?"  
The Doctor nodded.  
"Part. Now I need to take a look at you, so please lie back. Legs apart, OK?"  
Róan didn't move.  
"Róan, I want to help you only. I'm not here for anything else, and I will not hurt you. But it's very important that I examine you so that I know that you're OK."  
"Why should I believe you?"  
"I'm your doctor. I've only got your best interests at heart, Róan."  
"You told him to do it."  
The doctor froze in shock, but recovered quickly.  
"Róan, I know there's a lot going on right now that you don't understand, but please know this: I am here to take care of you. Anything I told Marik last night was to help you - to make the process easier on you. If these soldiers had it their way -" the Doctor cut himself off and paused, then searched Róan's face, trying to meet his gaze. "Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you? Now please, Róan, lie back. I'm just going to look. No touching."

Surprisingly, Róan complied and the doctor reflected that the changing must be taking hold already to make him so docile. Then, quietly:  
"It hurts."  
"What does?"  
"Everything. My - " Róan cut himself off and the doctor waited patiently for him to continue.  
"What hurts, Róan? I need to know."  
"Where he touched me. Really bad. And my balls. Everything."  
"Outside or inside?"  
"Both."  
the Doctor frowned a little.  
"OK, Róan, I'm going to need to touch you now, OK?"  
"No!" Róan pulled away immediately. "You said no touching!" his voice was back to panicked.  
"I know, I know. But if it hurts inside, you may have some injuries, and no matter how small, they should be looked after." the Doctor was speaking as if to a child. "You are very important to us, and we have to take very good care of you, OK?"  
Róan was shaking, but he laid back down.  
"Quickly."

A brief exam verified that his patient was fine, and the doctor sat back on the folding stool and removed the bluish antiseptic coating from his hands with a cloth.  
"I know you have some soreness and aching, and that's sort of to be expected right now; it's a part of the change, but it will pass. I'll give you something for it."  
Róan pulled himself back to sitting, a minute nod the only acknowledgment he gave this new information.  
"Do you understand what's happening to you right now, Róan?"  
"No." he answered truthfully, "I don't understand anything."

The doctor waited for him to get to a comfortable position, then began.  
"Some disorientation is common; you've been in stasis. You were found in a mobile human clan almost ten days ago now. A wolfish retrieval team, with the wolfe you know as Marik in the lead, captured your group, razed your camp, and brought you back here. No one was harmed. Your friends and family are fine. Your brother, as well as some others from your camp, are being held here. The senior members of your clan were offered release and amnesty in exchange for their peaceful cooperation. They took it. Those who were kept here are in different parts of this compound for the time being, although your brother would like to see you this afternoon, and if you behave well, we might be able to arrange just that. You are not a slave, nor a prisoner of war. You are a free citizen of the Wolfish Empire."  
"Then why can't I leave this room?"  
"Because you are currently being held for medical observation, for your own good. Your body is undergoing a number of changes right now, and it's best if there's someone here to help guide you."  
"What are these changes? What have you done to me?"

the Doctor sat back in his chair as if preparing to tell a long story.  
"We have discovered certain complements between our two species, Róan, but they must be initiated under specific conditions. Last night, when Marik took you, he was doing so to initiate your changing, the first stage in a wolfe-human bonding."  
Here, Róan interrupted, agitated.  
"I don't want a bonding! I don't want to be bonded. I don't want a changing either. I don't want to turn into a wolfe! I like being a human, please, change me back, fix me, make this stop, please, Alpha!"  
At that word, the Doctor pulled back in alarm.  
"Róan! You **cannot** use that title with me! That is a title to be given only to your alpha. You'll cause a lot of trouble slinging that word around." Róan took the admonishment silently, and the Doctor went on. "Anyway, you're not turning into a wolfe. You are and will remain a human being. As to reversing the procedure...well, I'm afraid that's impossible. And besides, you're almost a quarter through now; that's what the ache is. The hormones and chemicals you've been exposed to through intercourse with your wolfe are readying your body to be able to undergo a bearing process and, eventually, birth."

Róan blinked twice and barely made it off the bed before he threw up.  
"You lie."  
The doctor rubbed his back, gently.  
"It's true. It's been a real breakthrough for both our species, don't you agree? To finally be able to reproduce again, normally."  
"This isn't normal." Róan managed to get to his feet. "How is this normal?" he spat out the word like a mockery. "How is this possible?"  
"Interspecies repro is always tricky and unpredictable. Because of the timing of our arrival on your planet, as well as a number of other societal factors, wolfe-human interactions were very limited for a long time. But now that we've become more established here, we've been able to fully explore the complementary physiology between our species. As it turns out, we work perfectly together. Exposure to wolfish genetic material alters the hormonal makeup of the human; sort of a lock-and-key relationship, and allows said human to develop a functional set of bearing organs. Once altered, that physiology will remain of its own accord."  
Róan stared at him.  
"You're turning me into a woman."  
"Hardly. The changes will be very minor, barely noticeable. You won't even look any outwardly different. You'll simply be slightly changed on the inside."  
Róan's eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion.  
"What are these barely noticeable changes?"  
the Doctor blinked once at him.  
"Your testicles will reduce in size."  
"How much?" Róan demanded.  
"Entirely."  
"Fuck."

He was crouching on the ground again, emptying his stomach.  
"Róan, please try to calm down - everything's going to be alright."  
"No! Everything is definitely not going to be alright! I'm the new eunuch breeder concubine for some wolfe, who led a raid which killed my clan and destroyed my home! Nothing is alright!"  
"You are not a concubine, Róan, you are his mate. You are very precious to Marik. As are many others like you, to their wolfes. You are not, and will not be, a eunuch. And you are not a breeder. To bear for your wolfe and add to the bounty of the Empire is only the highest honor."  
"And then what?" Róan spit out. "After we're done bearing, then what? Will you kill us? Throw us away, back into the sea or the forest or wherever we came from? Or are we like cattle to you, to be bred and bred until we are all used up?"  
the Doctor looked horrified.  
"Certainly not! It is not like that, Róan. You are our mates; you will be accorded only the highest respect. You are an integral part of our society; you will help us raise our offspring and continue to build the Wolfish Empire."  
Róan shook his head as the nausea rose again.  
"This is a very good thing you'll be doing, Róan. Ensuring the furtherance of both our species and your own. You know how important reproduction is, I know you do. And we have been decimated as much as you have by an absence of bearers. Without reproducers, both our species will surely shrivel and die. But with your help, and the help of others like you, we both can continue to flourish."

Róan emptied his stomach again, only this time there was a pail in front of him and so he ended up not having to kneel in the mess.  
"Please tell me this is some kind of joke."  
The doctor just beamed at him.  
"It is a very beautiful thing. The actual changing process will be completed in about five days, and your mating in another few weeks after, if all is approved. Aren't you excited? You'll soon have a family of your own." the Doctor chuckled. "And quite soon, I'm sure - I doubt Marik will let you keep that belly flat for much longer." Róan tried very hard to concentrate on not throwing up again. The doctor went on. "He is besotted with you, you know. And such a good mate - he's very patient, has one of the best tempers I've ever seen in wolfes. And kind, too. Good looking, as I'm sure you've noticed. And he is high-ranking here. He will protect you, and build your children a good home."

His stomach flipped again, and Róan thought to ask.  
"Am I..." here, Róan gestured to his stomach, "Already?"  
"No, no." the Doctor laughed. "You'll need to complete your change before that is likely to happen."  
Assured at least of that, Róan managed back to the bed.  
"My nurse will come in and speak to you. He's human as well, and he had his first lit last year. He's very knowledgeable and can answer any of your questions. I'll call someone to clean up here."  
Róan grabbed desperately at the doctor's sleeve.  
"Wait. Please don't send Marik back in."  
The doctor looked kindly at Róan.  
"Don't worry. He's gone to report for duty for the day, actually. I thought I'd get him out of your hair and give you some time to get yourself together. But he'll be back for the afternoon meals, in a few hours. If you need anything, you can ask those guards there in the hall - who I'm told you so ignominiously met earlier - to get it for you. Now my nurse will be in shortly."

With that, he was gone and Róan was left alone and waiting for the nurse. A few minutes later, the door slid open and a young wolfe entered, made a face at Róan and the floor, and then proceeded to mop up the mess. Róan made a face back and ignored him beyond that. Then there was a knocking, and when he looked up, a human in his late twenties stood in the doorway.

"Hello." he smiled wide at Róan and stood in his place.  
"Hi."   
"Can I come in?" the man was trying to offer Róan control over his environment, he realized.  
"Sure." Róan moved over on the bed to make space.  
Annoyingly, the man seemed as delighted by Róan as the doctor had been.  
"So!" the man began. Róan just stared back at him. The man cleared his throat. "So the doctor said you would have some questions."  
Róan shrugged in seeming indifference until a thump in the hallway had him clinging, terrified, to the nurse.  
"Alright, easy."  
"Is it him? Is he back?" Róan's voice was filled with panic.  
"Who? Your mate? No, it's alright, I think it was just the guards." Róan recovered and tried to restore his dignity. The other man sensed the tension.  
"Hey, I bet you'd like to get out of here, huh?"  
Róan glanced at him and then nodded.  
"So how about we go for a walk."  
Róan raised his head, interest piqued.  
"You haven't even been home yet. Or eaten. Are you hungry? I'll call ahead and have something waiting for us when we get there. Then you can explore the quarter and maybe meet some new friends."  
Róan didn't respond at first, but then, hesitantly:  
"My - the doctor said my brother..."  
"Right! Ok, I'll just call down and have him meet us there as well."  
Róan looked visibly relieved, then his face fell again as he looked down at himself. The human wrinkled his nose.  
"And I bet you'd like to get cleaned up, too, huh?"  
Róan nodded gratefully.  
"Well, we'll do that and go find your brother. Although, you understand, there will only be supervised visits for the time being."  
"Anything, please, I just want to see him."


	4. A Reunion

The guards accompanied them to an adjacent quarter and up a few levels, keeping always twenty yards behind, at the nurse's instruct. On the way, Róan and the nurse (who introduced himself as Ayo) talked about everything that had happened, and was going to happen. Ayo, Róan discovered, had been found as part of a rescue expedition in the Atlantic Rim six years back. The underwater flip that his family had been traveling on had collapsed, forcing them to abandon ship. They'd been picked up by wolfish S.O.S., who'd noticed the unusual surface activity.

"Wolfish S.O.S.?" Róan interrupted.  
"Yeah. Wolfes use their attuned senses and advanced technology to run regular scan-and-rescue missions to assist humans in trouble. They consider their abilities and technologies a gift, and feel they have a responsibility to use them wisely. Bet you didn't know that, huh?" Ayo looked expectantly at Róan, who shrugged.  
"Why do they rescue humans? Add more breeding stock to their stables?"  
Ayo looked sidelong at him.  
"To save lives. Keep men out of Lout hands, mostly. You know how treacherous the road can be, and the seas are even worse. Humans who get captured by the Louts are..." Ayo trailed off and shuddered. "It's not good."

Róan felt confused - he'd always heard that Louts were imposing but innocuous, and only rarely interested in humans, but he masked his uncertainty and continued to listen to Ayo's story.

"I was twenty-one when I got here, which is just one year from the birthing age...by twenty-two, I'd gotten a lot of offers, but I hadn't chosen a mate yet, which already put me back. Most betas are mated by twenty, birthing by twenty-three. But I hadn't undergone any of the ceremonies or education I needed beforehand, so they told me I had to wait and do everything, which would take at least six months. Then I decided I wanted noetics training, so that would take almost another year, which meant I was 23 before I even really got presented. So I felt pretty behind."

Ayo suddenly seemed to realize what he was saying and glanced surreptitiously at Róan to be sure he wasn't offended.  
"Of course, that's more than common now, and they've got all kinds of ways you can bargain to get mated earlier if you're behind. It's not really something anyone notices anymore."

Róan didn't really seem to care one way or the other, so Ayo went on.  
"So then when I was 23 I got presented and was mated at 24. His name's Priton."  
For a minute, Ayo just beamed, and Róan quietly watched him bask.  
"Anyway, he's a border guard, so he's away a lot of the time, but I think he's going to receive a new position soon, so maybe he'll be closer to home. Which means he can see me and the litter more before they go away to school."  
"Litter?"  
Ayo glanced at Róan again.  
"Uh huh, litter, I had my first litter last year. If you're bonded before 25, then you have to wait two years after you're mated before you can birth, or else everyone thinks you're impatient and childish. So I had my first litter pretty late, but there were six, so I think we're both happy."  
"Litter?" Róan repeated, only now he'd stopped in the hallway.  
"Are you OK, Róan? Are you feeling sick again?"  
"What the hell do you mean by litter?"  
"Babies, Ro. Six babies. Four wolfe, two human."   
Ayo paused and turned to Róan.  
"I know this is a lot to take in at once, but please try to remember that it's all for the good of the species. You would be doing your people a disservice to try to avoid that which sustains us."  
With that, Ayo opened the door.

The place was spectacular.   
"This is your home now. You and Marik's, as soon as your mating is finalized."

Róan should have been off-put by this statement, but he was too entranced by his surroundings. There were high ceilings - well, high for him at least. They reached up at least fifteen feet, plus vaults, and were painted wood. The walls were a light cream color, and the hallways were lined with thick soft rugs. Ayo kicked off his shoes at the door, and Róan followed his lead. After passing through the entrance room, separated from the main room by two massive stone columns, there were living areas to the left and entertaining rooms to the right. Ayo led Róan into the primary sitting area, in which large soft couches in cream and maroon littered the floor in all shapes. The thing that captured his attention most, though, was the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows that let in the light of the day. Róan stared in mute adoration.

"What's wrong?" Ayo looked, concerned, at him.  
"Nothing...I've just never seen this much daylight before."  
Ayo smiled broadly.  
"Just one of the benefits of the Wolfish life. The food will be here shortly. Would you like to bathe? I'll wash your hair." he offered. "Oh! And I think your brother may be in there."

Róan raised an eyebrow, but agreed, and Ayo led him off into the living area, down a short hallway and through several doors into the largest "bathroom" that Róan had ever seen. The ceilings were vaulted over several pools of water, (each of varying temperature, Ayo explained) painted and decorated in blue and gold relief. The pools were tiled and smooth wood benches sat between the massive oak columns of the room. In the very center of the room, the roof was glass, revealing a blue sky and bright sunlight. Róan couldn't do anything more than stare.

"Communal bathrooms. Wolfes are big on this; they use baths as a fraternizing, bonding type of place. You share with the wing. If you want, I can introduce you to some of the other humans."

There was a smell of pine needles in the air, and when Róan turned round again, he saw that Ayo had already stripped to the nude and was wrapping himself in one of two large towels he'd produced from somewhere. Off towards the pool, there was the low chatter of conversation and Róan realized that he didn't feel quite ready to face anyone else just yet, much as he wanted to see Euan.

Ayo sensed his hesitation and smiled gently as he handed him a towel.  
"Don't worry. Introductions can come later. You don't have to talk to anyone else just yet. We'll find your brother and sit in a corner, OK?"  
Róan nodded and shyly took the towel, furtively looking for someplace private where he could undress. Ayo grinned at him.  
"You'll have to shed that shyness, friend. There's no room for that here."

Róan glowered, but Ayo just kept grinning as he led the way between columns and benches towards the back of the bathing room, where steamy-looking rooms and showers were lined along a wall. Suddenly he was hit from behind by a shouting, sweating mass of human who Róan knew immediately was his brother.  
"Ro!" he squeezed him tightly, but it couldn't have been tight enough for Euan.   
"Jeez, am I glad to see you. I thought you were dead. I thought they lied. I was fucking terrified for you!" Euan squeezed a now-smiling Róan again and Ayo stepped back to give them privacy, but didn't go far. "Are you OK?"  
Róan shrugged.  
"Are you OK?"  
Euan smiled broadly.  
"Fine now that you're here. Where have they been keeping you? Are you hungry? Have they fed you? Has anyone hurt you?" Euan was touching his hair, his face, his arms and sides, checking for injuries in the same way he had since Róan was a child.  
Róan shook his head, still smiling.  
"I'm fine, Eu." he glanced at Ayo. "Let's get in the water."

They stripped, Róan trying furtively to examine his brother. There was a bruise on his right hip which he noted, but Euan kept a suspiciously close hold on his towel. In the pool, as Róan had predicted, Ayo was distracted by the arrival of three people he knew, a fact which afforded Euan and Róan far greater privacy as they huddled together in one corner of the warm water.

"We have to get out of here."  
Róan was anxious. Euan looked concerned for a moment before answering.  
"We need to slow down and think, Ro."  
Euan moved to a submerged bench near to one of the pool walls, leaning back against the edge. Róan sat next to him, balancing mostly on the edge of the perch.  
"Euan, please, there's this wolfe. They said that he's my mate and they want me to -"  
"I know."  
"Euan, I can't do that." Róan's voice was lowered.

Euan looked pensive for a moment before responding, looking directly at his brother.  
"Ro, I know that you remember Stephen. It wasn't good, when we were with him. You've seen some things that you never should have. It was my fault, that part - I should have kept us both better."  
"Euan, you were doing the best you could. You didn't know - "  
"But it's not always like that, Róan. What was between Stephen and I was not right. It's meant to be different. And it will be different, for you."  
Róan regarded his brother carefully.  
"Euan? You're scaring me here."  
Euan smiled a little at his brother, then reached out one hand to smooth back a few loose strands of the thick dark hair that Róan had pulled back out of his face.  
"You're a lot older than you once were, Ro, but I think sometimes I still forget. You're not fourteen anymore. You're old enough now to see things differently."  
"Euan, what's going on?"  
Euan traced a line between some of the dark freckles on Róan's face. His voice was dreamy, distant.  
"You were always so lucky, Ro. You're so pretty - it keeps you out of trouble."  
Róan tensed. The way his brother was talking...  
"Euan, what's going on?" Róan's voice was fearful now, bleating. Euan didn't respond, just began braiding the loose bits of hair between his fingers.  
"Euan!" Róan was panicking again. "What's going on?"  
Euan stopped braiding and looked his brother square in the eyes.  
"I think you already know."  
The words hit Róan like an anchor and now he felt the dropping feeling like he was sinking, falling, and his world was collapsing around him.  
"Euan, no..." There were tears in Euan's eyes. "Please don't, please don't make me do this, please Euan."  
"Ro - "  
"Why do you want to stay here?!"  
"I don't think I can leave for a while."  
Róan exploded.

"Leave? You mean escape! What are you talking about? You're insane. You've lost it - of course we have to get out of here! This is a wolfish compound. We are in the enemy's stronghold. Anything could happen to us. You were the one who was always telling me how dangerous and violent wolfes were, and now you want to shack up with one! You want me to whore myself out? What's wrong with you? Have you lost all your loyalty? You don't care about me; you don't care about the clan!"

Now it was Euan's turn to be angry.  
"Forget about _the clan_ , Róan!"  
Róan gasped, horrified.  
"How can you say that?!"  
"Twenty years we served that clan, Róan. You and me. It took our childhood, and our dreams, and our family, and then it came for our father, and he saved them all, but they didn't care. The clan took him anyway. And then it came for me, and it took my freedom and my happiness and my safety and twice, almost my life, and then -"  
Euan inhaled deeply.  
"And then it came for you. I would not - **will not** \- let them take any more from us."  
Euan seized his brother by the shoulders.  
"Do you understand? Do you understand that, Róan? I loved that clan more than my own life and I became a slave to them. I will not let that happen to you. They were never good to us, our caretakers. They beat us, Róan, they left Father to die, they tried to starve you, and when that was not torture enough, they gave us to Stephen." Euan spoke the name with a conviction of disgust that Róan had not heard him use before.   
"And now our leaders have left. Left! Gone again, abandoned their own sons and subs and soldiers! Well, good riddance. We don't need them now, and we never will again."  
Euan finally released him, and Róan sat back, shocked into silence.   
Across the pool, Ayo glanced over at them but continued his conversation.

"I love you, Róan. That's why I want the best for you. And I want the best for my babies, too."  
Euan looked up to meet his brother's eyes meaningfully. Róan's own eyes went wide.  
"No."  
The sick feeling was back again, but Ro worked to suppress it. Euan was crying.  
"How?"  
"I got changed as soon as I got here. Then he took me. Just five days back, right after my change. The nurses told me in the center two mornings ago. Five days, but I swear I can feel them, Ro. I feel different. Please try to understand. I can't take them away yet. I can't leave. They'll die with us, you know they will. If we happened to be unlucky enough to find our clan again, they might try to protect them, but we have no doctors or hospitals, or operating tables or medicines. We don't know anything about this kind of pregnancy. If there were a complication with the delivery, we'd be lost. We have no homes and few weapons to defend ourselves. And with another human group? Then what? A life of fear and being constantly hunted, constantly running? We can't even leave the underground. What life would that be for them? They can go to school here, Róan, and read books and eat good food and play in the sunlight and have a doctor if they are sick." Euan seized his brother's hand in a pleading grip. "Please, Róan, don't try to leave me now. Not when I need you so much. Please stay with me."

Róan took his hand back and turned away.  
"Who is he?"  
"Who?"  
"Your wolfe."  
"His name is Loban."  
Róan swirled the water.  
"Is he kind to you?"  
Euan nodded vigorously.  
"Very. He brings me fresh fruit and new foods to try, everyday. We go to all the meals together, and for walks in the morning. He's been teaching me about the pack and he asks for my opinion on things. He's kind of sweet, actually; patient, and gentle, and really slow to anger."  
Róan played with the water in his hands.  
"I told him about you." Euan went on, gently. "He's very excited to meet you."  
Róan shrugged in an off-hand sort of way.  
"I have a wolfe, too."  
"Oh?" Euan didn't press, sensing that there was more his brother wanted to say.  
"His name is Marik."  
"Oh."  
"He breached me."   
"Oh!" there was a pause, then: "Are you OK?"  
"Yes. It hurt a little before, but it's gone now." wAnxious eyes turned to his brother. "You'll bear witness, right? That it's done?"

Euan nodded, but his face held concern.  
"Is he the one they want to be your mate?"  
Róan nodded.  
"Do you like him?"  
"I don't really know him. I've only been awake since this morning."  
"He did it this morning?"  
"Last night."

Róan seemed disinclined to elaborate, and so Euan let that pass. A few moments of awkward silence passed between them, then Róan spoke.  
"It wouldn't have been any different in the clan, would it have?"  
Euan hesitated. Now that his tirade was over, he seemed reluctant to talk about the clan.  
"You know what it was like, Róan. You remember the way they were, the soldiers. They took whatever and whoever they felt they needed."  
Róan seemed to be thinking hard.  
"They gave that kid away before. When we needed passage through Lout territory. Do you remember that? To be a wife to a Lout commander. The Louts said they would raise him. He looked so scared when they put him in the car."  
Euan kept his silence.  
"His name was Liam. He was my friend." Róan thought some more. "He was so young. Would they have given me away, too, when it was convenient?"  
"Probably not. Not like that, at least." Euan looked shifty. "There were...plans for you."

Róan listened attentively to his brother. Here was a story he'd never heard before.   
"You were favored for your looks among the clan elders. It was the one good thing about Stephen -a that he kept them from you."  
Róan looked down at his hands.  
"I would rather have had you safe."  
Euan shook his brother's shoulders.  
"Hey. Look, I'm here now, aren't I? I'm fine, ok? Fine. And I'm not going anywhere."  
Róan bit his lip.  
"What were the plans?"  
"After Stephen - they came to me. They said we'd been ducking the law long enough. You were older now, not a child anymore. They thought you should be a gift."  
"To who?"  
"Carrilan."  
Róan's head swam.  
"They were going to separate us?"  
Euan nodded.  
"The last four days, I was so worried; terrified that I wouldn't be able to get us out of there, wouldn't be able to figure out a solution until it was too late. We needed a way out. And then this happened. It was like a godsend."  
Róan sat back in the water, quietly digesting this new piece of information.

"So if we were to go back -"  
"There is no going back. I won't lose you."  
Róan laughed mirthlessly.  
"So there's not really much of a choice for us, is there?" there was a pause, then: "We are disloyal."  
"No, Róan, we're not. The clan was disloyal to us, from the beginning. With all our father did for them, they still allowed us to be treated the way we were."

Róan bit his lip and Euan could tell he was trying to keep from crying.  
"It's not fair."  
"I know, little brother."  
"This is not fair."  
Euan moved closer to him and put an arm around his shoulders.  
"I know."  
"I wanted to lead the clan."  
"I know." Euan hadn't the heart to tell him it was a completely unattainable goal for a designated sub. But here, things might be different.  
"It's not fair." Róan repeated, almost whining now.   
"I know." Euan turned his brother bodily to face him. "But this is what it is. Now, please, Róan, listen to me - you'll be good, won't you? I know I didn't raise you entirely in the clan ways, but haven't I brought you up well? I taught you how to behave. You know what to do. You'll be a good sub, won't you? You won't get into trouble or make your husband angry, will you? If you - " Euan cut himself off and bit his lip, but his eyes were still pleading when they met Róan's, and Ro realized that no matter what situation they were in, his brother's concern, first and foremost, always fell to keeping Róan safe, in the only way he knew how.  
"Yes, I'll be good." Euan looked relieved, and Ayo chose that moment to reappear.  
He looked back and forth, curious, between the two brothers.  
"Is everything OK?"  
Róan nodded.  
"I have a question."  
"Go on."  
"If I...mate Marik?"  
"Yes?" Ayo prodded gently.  
"Will I still get to see my brother?"  
"Of course. Anytime you like. I swear it."  
Róan processed this.  
"Then I'll have him."  
Ayo looked pleased.

After their bath, Ayo, Euan, and Róan went for lunch in Róan's new home. Euan was given supplements, which he turned his nose up at until Róan ground them into his food. Ayo chattered on about everything that would need to be done for both of them in the next few weeks, and appointed himself their new best friend and social guide.

"You'll have to learn Russian."  
"Russian?" Róan made a face as he tasted something purple. "What for?"  
"The largest wolfe territory is in what was once Russia, so it's become quite a commonly used language among us. But don't worry, you'll pick it up quickly."  
"How large is BlackForest?" Euan asked between small bites of meat. Ayo watched him pick over his food sympathetically.  
"Hey." he said gently, covering Euan's hand with his own. "I bet you probably feel kind of nauseated right now, huh?"  
Euan looked slightly embarassed and shrugged noncommittally. Ayo smiled a little at him.  
"Well, I know you don't feel in the mood for it, but you have to eat." Euan looked up at him and glanced sideways at Róan. Ayo touched his hand, refocusing his attention. "You need at least six hundred etoks a day for them to be healthy. You want them to be healthy, don't you?"  
Róan watched his brother as Euan cautiously picked the fork up and took a few more reluctant bites. Ayo seemed satisfied.  
"BlackForest is actually one of the smaller wolfe territories. It stretches from Carolina to the Georgia coast, and has a population of about 100,000, increasing every day." He winked at Róan. "And every night."


	5. A Lesson In Titles and History

Back in Marik's quarter, Ayo suggested that Róan try to spend some time getting acquainted with his new home. Euan was allowed to be there as long as Ayo was, and so the three walked through together, exploring closets and side rooms. Euan tried to be positive, Róan noticed, praising the fine wood, the soft couches and rugs, the space and the lighting. Many of the smaller rooms were unfurnished and seemed rarely used.

Wolfe architecture seemed to favor centralized, circular designs, almost Greek in nature. Thick dark woods and deep rich colors were also favorites. In the central living area, there was a room filled with the same kind of cream-and-crimson couches seen in the public sitting area. There was a large screen on the wall by the door, which Ayo introduced as a television, something with which Róan was completely unfamiliar. There were a few low wooden tables - for eating on the floor or couches, Ayo explained - and a writing table by the window.

Róan was standing by the writing table, looking uncomprehendingly over some papers spread on the desk when his brother nudged him.  
"Don't you have things you should be doing?"  
Róan stared blankly back at him. Euan furrowed his brow.  
"Ro, please don't make me worry about you." he lowered his voice. "I thought you were going to behave, like a good sub."  
Róan hated to hear those words, but they did trigger an immediate set of memories.   
"I am, I just...forgot."  
Euan looked worried.  
"Please don't forget."  
Róan sighed and looked around.  
"Where should I start? Everything is done already."  
"Then start with yourself. Give him a reason to come home to you."

Róan sat on the floor in the bedroom while Euan brushed his hair and braided bits of it, then he went over his skin with oils to make it glow. Ayo sat on one of the sofas by the bed and flipped idly through channels on the television, a device which Róan found immensely interesting, and kept demanding that Ayo explain more about it to him, until Ayo said his knowledge was exhausted because he didn't know how the damn thing worked, he just knew it did.

"Do they record everything?"  
"No, just some things. Interesting things." Ayo was trying to watch drawings move on the screen.  
"Are we on television?" Ayo laughed, which Róan thought was rude, but he was too curious to be offended.  
"No. We're not actors, and we're also not interesting. Not right now, at least."   
Ayo drifted off with the storyline, and Róan kept trying to look up at the screen with him, which bothered Euan because he was trying to braid and had to keep jerking his brother's head back into position.

After a while, Ayo glanced over.  
"Do you want a depil?" Róan blinked at him, slightly confused. Ayo clarified. "It takes the hair off. Like a shave."   
Róan continued to stare. Shave what? His underarms? Some of the subs in the clan did that. But he didn't have much hair there, and didn't think it would make much difference. Maybe his face? That seemed unlikely, because he'd never had to shave a day in his life. It had made him popular among the males in his clan - the boyish look he had. His hand went unconsciously to his chin, which Ayo noticed.  
"I meant for the southern cross." Ayo said, wryly.  
Now the look was even more quizzical.  
"It's common here. You can - nevermind." Ayo shrugged the suggestion off and Euan finished Róan's hair and let him stand.

As he stretched, Euan turned to Ayo.  
"Ayo, where can we find some clothes for him?"  
Euan was sizing up his brother, who stood in front of him in only the white robe he'd worn from the bath. It was slightly large and tied loosely, making Róan look even smaller within it. Ayo nodded and went to one of the closets in the wall. The first two he tried were filled with the wolfe's clothing, but the third had in it only a few hanging and a few folded items, all in Róan's size.  
"Had them made when you first arrived." Ayo explained.

Euan glanced at the quiet chronometer on the wall above them. Róan picked out a few things, then headed off to the other room to change. Ayo stopped him.  
"Honestly, you've got to get used to this. Strip here. It's fine."   
Róan glanced at Euan, who shrugged his agreement. Red-faced, he did as he was told. It took about twenty minutes before they decided on what he would wear. A deep gold shirt that fit him closely and crimson robe with gold trim to wrap around his shoulders and tie at the waist, both in a lush and comfortable fabric. From his pocket, Euan produced a familiar small gold bangle. Róan gaped at it.  
"How did you get this?"  
"Grabbed it just before they toted us out of there. Managed to hang on to it through the processing. My wolfe told me I could keep it." he smiled. "Thought you might miss it."  
Róan grinned, delighted to be reunited with his lucky bracelet.  
"Also thought you might need it now, more than ever."

Behind them, Ayo was getting to his feet and gathering his things, an indication that it was time to go. Euan's face suddenly turned serious.  
"Please, Róan, be good." He stroked his hair again, and Róan turned his face into the caress.  
"I will."  
Euan glanced at the chrono again.  
"I have to get back. Do you want to have dinner together?"  
Róan nodded vigorously.  
"Ask your wolfe."   
Euan's reminder checked his enthusiasm.  
"Right. Will do."  
"Do you know how to reach me?"  
"Ayo showed me how to use the communicators. And I know what wing you live in."  
"Which one?" his brother challenged and Róan rolled his eyes.  
"Raven. And I live in Hemlock. I'm not a child, Euan."  
"I know, I know. I was just checking." he gave Róan one more hug.  
"Till evening, then."  
Róan nodded, trying to appear nonchalant, thinking to put his brother at ease.  
"Till evening."  
Ayo waved as the two went to the door, where a servant had materialized to show them out.

* * *

It was almost dark when the door opened, and Róan, who had spent the day preparing himself for exactly this moment, was caught completely off-guard. He leapt to his feet and turned just in time to catch the smile spreading over his wolfe's face.  
"Hello."  
"Hi." Róan was suddenly shy, and Marik's smile got wider.

His eyes took in the length of Róan's body; his skin the color of brandy, ripe and glowing from the oils; the rich fabrics of his clothing; the small jewelry. It was a far cry from the dirty, half-naked animal he'd looked like that morning. He was, in fact, beautiful. Marik felt a stirring and knew immediately he hadn't made a mistake in mating this one.

"This is a nice surprise."

The wolfe cast another appraising look over him, and Róan anxiously fingered the fabric of the robe that he was wearing and double checked that it was closed around the waist. Marik crossed the room, passing close to Róan, and busied himself stripping off a set of weaponry, none of the pieces of which Róan recognized. Róan rushed over to help him, and Marik directed him to put the weaponry into a closet across the room, of which Róan made a mental note.

"Why, thank you, little one."  
Róan choked back a bitter response and kept silent.  
"Have you eaten?" the wolfe inquired. Róan shook his head. "Do you want to go to the common meal, or eat here?"  
Róan hesitated.  
"My brother..."  
Marik stood where he was and waited patiently for him to finish, but Róan didn't seem to know how to go on.  
"You want to eat with your brother?"  
Róan nodded.  
"Is he in the dining hall?"  
Róan bit his lip, which Marik found incredibly fetching but tried to ignore.  
"I think - can he come here?"  
Marik nodded and began to meander across the room.  
"This is your home now, Róan. Your family is always welcome."

Róan looked relieved, but backed away as Marik came too close on his way to the bedroom. Marik stopped in the doorway.  
"You are still afraid."  
Róan chose not to respond.  
"Come."

Róan obeyed slowly, winding his way between furniture to take the slowest possible route through the sitting room to his mate. Marik didn't rush him, just waited patiently in the door way until Róan got as close as he was going to get. The wolfe turned and led him into the living quarters, down the short hallway to their bedroom. Róan stalled at the threshold, but Marik went on walking and he soon followed behind. In the bedroom, Róan looked anywhere but at his mate's face.

"Sit." he did so quickly, on the edge of the bed, and Marik found himself wondering where the spirit of that morning had gone.  
"Those are beautiful robes. You look nice."  
"Thank you, Alpha."  
"That color suits you well."  
Róan glanced up to gauge his wolfe's mood. He seemed tame enough.  
"I'll wear it again if it pleases you, alpha."  
Marik eyed him.  
"You're very obedient."  
Róan reddened appropriately at the semi-compliment.  
"Thank you, alpha. _My_ alpha." he corrected himself quickly. Marik frowned.  
"Use my name, Róan."  
Róan blinked.  
"Marik-my-Alpha." It came out like one word.  
Marik exhaled in frustration.  
"Just my name."

Now he was stripping to the waist, standing by one of the closets which, Róan now knew, was full of his clothing. He pulled out a cream colored robe and put it on but didn't tie it. It hung on his broad shoulders and left his massive chest exposed. Róan tried hard not to stare as Marik came closer.

"What happened to you? You were so fiery this morning."  
the wolfe sounded disappointed and Róan felt fear rise in his throat. He knew well that a disappointed male was a dangerous one.  
"I'm sorry, alph - I'm sorry. I'll brighten up."  
"I don't want you to brighten up. I want you to be you. What happened while I was gone?"  
The question seemed rhetorical, and Marik was on the move again, going to the writing desk by the window, so Róan just carefully watched the wall ahead of him.  
"Did someone say something to you?"  
Marik was back to close now, standing just next to the bed. Róan risked another glance up at him, and found nothing but concern in his wolfe's face.  
"No, sir."  
"No titles, Róan."  
Confusion set in.  
"But you said - "  
"That was then. This is now." the wolfe was curt, which Róan took as further displeasure. Euan would be so disappointed in him right now. They weren't ever going to get to have dinner together, because he was going to upset his wolfe and then there wouldn't be any dinner. Róan remembered hungry nights with Stephen well.  
"I apologize. I shouldn't have argued."

Stephen would have punished him anyway, but the wolfe seemed willing enough to let it go. That was good. Maybe Euan was right. Maybe things here wouldn't be so bad. Then Marik sat down on the bed, and Róan felt his heartbeat quicken.  
"Calm down."  
Róan amenably tried to relax, but the wolfe was getting closer now. The bed dipped next to him.  
"I can hear your heartbeat. You're terrified."  
"I'm fine, alpha."  
"Róan."

Ro realized his error immediately, but apologies after a repeated mistake were unacceptable, and so he kept his silence. Silence would probably prevent any further punishment, and could be penance in itself. It was a lesson he'd learned well with Stephen, who would make him keep silence for days after he'd mouthed off, under threat of whipping his brother. To bite his tongue was agony every time, worse even than the bite of the strap. But this wolfe was not Stephen. He would have his own methods. Róan kept his silence anyway while Marik continued to watch him.

Getting no response from his mate but a calculated assessment of the floor, Marik eventually gave up and laid back on the bed.  
"Call your brother for dinner, Róan. Tell him to meet us here in twenty minutes."   
Relieved to have been both forgiven (for the time being) and assigned a task, Róan sprang up and went to the wall to send a message to his brother. Once it was done, he turned back to find his wolfe watching him.  
"Are you still sore?"  
Róan blushed furiously but managed to shake his head no. Marik looked him over.  
"Come lie down."

The color drained from Róan's face and he wished he'd said yes, but it was too late to lie now. Marik sensed his discomfort.  
"Not for that. I won't be touching you again until we're mated, Róan, you can be assured of that. Now come lie down and rest until your brother gets here. You're far too anxious."

Still suspicious, Róan approached the bed tentatively and stretched out far from his mate. Marik hooked one arm around and drew him up to his side.  
"Tell me about your clan."  
There was a pause.  
"What did you want to know?"  
"Who did you live with there?"  
"My brother, Euan. And our father, before he died. After Father, Stephen lived with us until he was killed in a raid, a few weeks before you came."  
"A raid? By whom?"  
"It was our raid; on another clan. They were better defended, but Stephen thought he could do it."  
"You don't seem sad."  
"Neither Euan nor I were very sorry to see him go."  
"Who was he? Why did he live with you?"  
"He was...my brother's male. No subs are not allowed to live alone, so when our father died, it was either take Stephen or be split up and assigned to a male each."  
"You're a...sub?"

Marik didn't have a full idea of what that meant, but pieces were starting to come together in his head.  
"Yes. Euan too."  
"What does that mean?"  
"It means you don't get a say in much, mostly. It means you have to stay at the camp most of the time and help take care of home stuff. You can't go on raids, or train as a warrior. You can't speak unless you're spoken to. Can't hold positions of leadership. And sometimes you have to entertain the clan leaders."  
"Entertain." Marik's voice was grim.  
"Not like that. Not with sex. That might come, later, but only if the leader is sufficiently senior enough to convince your own male to give you up, and he takes you on as his sub. Our father would never have given us up to anyone, unless maybe we'd asked. He loved us too much. And once Stephen had Euan, of course, he was simply too jealous and possessive of us to let anyone else come close. To have two subs meant a lot of status for him."  
"Is that very uncommon? Having two subs?"  
Róan shrugged.  
"As uncommon as the clan leaders want it to be. In our clan, it was not very common. There were only twenty-three subs to fifty males. Forty-seven after our father and a few others got sick."  
"How old were you when that happened?"  
"Fourteen."  
"And Euan was?"  
"Seventeen."  
"And he and Stephen - they raised you?"  
"Yes."  
"As your parents?"  
"Yes."  
"So then Stephen and Euan -"  
"Yes."  
"But you weren't sorry to see him go?"

Róan actually turned to face his wolfe now.  
"He was cruel to my brother. Euan still carries the scars of their time together. I would have killed him myself if it wouldn't have broken my brother's heart."  
Marik felt the passion in his beta's words and knew immediately the love that these two had for one another.  
"Your brother loved him."  
"In his own way, yes."  
Marik let the subject drop because he could sense the anger rising in his mate.

"You saw your brother this morning. Was there anyone else from your clan you wanted to see?"  
"That clan is dead to us now."  
Marik raised an eyebrow. Indeed, a lot had changed since he'd left that morning. At least Róan's personality seemed to be showing through again.  
"Why?"  
Róan sighed.  
"They were never very good to Euan and I. And now Euan says that the clan leaders are gone - that they left us here. They have betrayed us, again. We are no longer interested in being associated with them."  
"They were never good to you?" Marik knew this discussion must be painful for Róan, but he didn't want to try to pick the topic up again later.

"Our father practically built the clan - before him, there was chaos; fighting, constantly, and betrayal and hunger, all the time. He forced them to accept and establish rules and rank. Some resented his rule, resented being forced to conform to laws. After he died, they took it out on us. They would push us around, be rude to us, ignore us at meals - we barely got enough to survive, even when there was plenty of food for the clan. They made us beggars. And when Stephen came - the way he acted, no one cared. Other subs didn't get treated the way we were, but nobody would help us. But still, we were loyal to them because it was what we'd been taught - it was all we knew. We didn't really have a choice."  
Marik was silent.  
"Stephen nearly killed my brother, twice. Once when I was fifteen, and again when I was seventeen. I stopped him, both times."  
There was more silence.  
"I have scars from Stephen."

Marik decided that it was time to make certain things clear to his mate.  
"Róan, I will never treat you that way. You are not a _sub_ here."  
Róan opened his mouth to say something, but hesitated. Marik waited. Finally, it came out.  
"What am I?"  
"First always, you are a free citizen of the Wolfish Empire. And in our way of life, everyone gets a voice. Even prisoners of war may speak about their conditions. Once you have become more accustomed to life here, I will explain the workings of our society and government to you. You are always free and welcome to participate. You may pursue an education if you choose, in any field that you like."  
"But I am bound to your bed." Róan's voice was a whisper. Marik sighed heavily.  
"You are not, until we are bonded. You may at any time refuse my mating, but it would perhaps not be the best choice for you."  
"Why not?"  
"We are in a reproductive crisis, Róan, and in times of crisis we do things that we would not normally do otherwise. All capable bearers must be bonded by twenty-seven, birthing by twenty-nine. Those who do not comply will be forcibly bred. In most places, the number of wolfes exceed bearers by a ratio of seventeen to one. But this is a small pack, and at the risk of sounding arrogant, I would say that you might not find a better mate in fair time. I am one of the highest-ranking unmated officers here, and there are others in our pack who are not so...sympathetic to the desires and concerns of their betas."  
"They are like Stephen."  
"No. We do not allow wolfes like Stephen to breed. Their possessiveness; their anger - it allows too much of our baser nature to be released. They are a danger to themselves and our society. We exile wolfes like that, leave them to survive on their own in the rough."

There was silence while Róan processed this. Then:  
"Euan is twenty-six."  
Marik was amazed at his young mate's ability to throw him for a loop at every turn. It was knots just trying to follow the young man's thought patterns.  
"I know."  
"He doesn't really get a choice, then, does he?"  
Marik was silent and Róan changed topics.  
"When we are bonded - will things be different between us?"  
"What do you mean?"  
"All the things you said - will they still be true?" there was a hint of a challenge in Róan's voice.  
"Yes. To be bonded does not mean you lose your freedom."  
Róan smiled to himself in satisfaction. They lay quietly for a few more minutes, Róan having become more relaxed during their conversation.

Shortly, the door opened to reveal an olive-skinned boy with thick dark hair braided back from his face. Marik began to sit up.  
"Ah, Medin. Róan, sit up and meet him."   
Róan obeyed and sat up to see the young human, no more than sixteen, who watched him curiously from the doorway.  
"This is your varon." Marik explained. "His name is Medin. He hasn't got any family, and he's too young to be bonded, so he will live here, with us, until he's old enough to take a mate. He will serve you in certain basic capacities, and you will raise him to be a satisfactory beta."  
Róan blinked up at his mate.  
"I will raise him?"  
Marik nodded.  
"Come here, Medin, and say hello."  
The boy shyly made his way over to the bed and sat on the edge of it.  
"Hello."  
"Hi, Medin."   
This was fast becoming a more complicated situation than Róan had anticipated.

Marik was frowning now at Medin.  
"Medin, what did I tell you about this?" he picked up one of Medin's small braids between two large fingers. Medin didn't look frightened at all, Róan noted. Just petulant.  
"Alpha Marik, it's just three of them."  
"No, Medin. You are a child. Take them out."  
Medin pouted, but began unbraiding faithfully, occasionally casting envious glances at Róan. Marik noticed this.  
"Róan is an adult. And a soon-to-be-mated one, at that. You, Medin, are a child. It is not appropriate."  
Medin looked duly chastened, and glanced over at Marik before returning his gaze to Róan, then to the floor. His hair, now unbraided, fell in waves around his face.  
"The meal is ready, Mate Róan. I put it in the lunch room; the dining room is not yet furnished."  
Now Marik looked embarrassed.  
"I never really needed much furniture - there was always just me here."

Róan ignored Marik and turned his attention back to the boy.  
"How old are you?"  
Medin looked frightened by this question for some reason, and looked back to Marik for assurance before redirecting his attention to the floor again.  
"Fourteen, but I'm very mature and I promise I won't be any trouble. I learn really quickly and I'll be worth your time, Alpha Mate, I really will."  
The words flowed out in a torrent, and Róan put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.  
"It's OK. It's fine. I was just asking."  
Medin searched his face, and Róan realized that Medin was as terrified of him as he was of his mate. He wondered what kind of power he had over this boy to make him so scared.  
"Medin." Marik was looking sternly at the boy, which actually made him cower. "We talked about this, didn't we?"  
Medin nodded.  
"I chose you. That's all that should be said on the matter." Medin was silent, but still looked beseechingly at Róan. Róan looked to Marik for an explanation.  
"Most varons are older, and only need two or three years of training. He's afraid that you won't want to care for him for six years or more."  
Róan kind of reeled at the figure but felt such strong sympathy for the boy that he couldn't help but be willing.  
"I am glad to have you, Medin."  
The intercom chirped, announcing a visitor.  
"Should I get that, Mate Róan?" Medin looked anxious for a reason to leave after Marik's two reprimands, so Róan nodded.  
"We'll meet them at the table."

Marik and Róan were sitting together at the table when his brother rounded the corner.  
Relief and joy lit Róan's features.  
"What are you doing here?"  
Róan's face fell, but when he turned to face his wolfe, he saw immediately that Marik's harsh words were directed not at Euan, but at the wolfe who accompanied him. Marik's face was low and his words were almost a growl. The wolfe across the room mirrored his stance.  
"If I'd had any idea it was you we'd be coming to see, then believe me, I would not have accepted. It wouldn't have been worth my time."  
Marik growled and began to rise from the table, but Róan's hand on his arm stopped him.  
"Stop! Marik, that's my brother."  
Marik looked at his mate.  
"And that's mine."  
Róan stared at him.  
"Loban is your brother?"  
"You knew his name?"  
Medin was busy trying not to look interested by the window.  
"Medin!" Marik barked. "Take your dinner to your room."  
Medin pouted, but did as he was told, passing nervously between the two wolfes facing off across the room.

Euan had stepped between them, too, and now he was speaking in a low voice to his wolfe, trying to calm him. Róan took advantage of the opportunity to speak to Marik.  
"What's going on here?"  
"He's my brother, Loban. Four years ago, he tried to steal my mate and I have never forgiven him."  
"You have a mate?!"  
"Had." Marik frowned. "I had a mate."  
"And?"  
"It didn't work out. Our bonding was never completed."  
"Because of him?"  
Marik shrugged noncommittally.  
"If he hadn't interfered -"  
"If I hadn't interfered, then you would be bonded to that tral today, and you'd have no one but yourself to blame."  
Loban no longer looked angry, but Marik's rage had not subsided.  
"Get out of my home, you traitor."  
"Marik, please!"  
Róan looked panicked.  
"Euan is my brother. Haven't we been through enough? Please don't separate us again." Róan looked pleadingly up at his mate and suddenly Marik felt very, very selfish. He took Róan's hand in his own.  
"You're right, Róan. I'm sorry." he looked up to where Loban was eyeing him suspiciously.  
"Let's just eat."


	6. In Confidence

Euan was grateful to be home. Dinner with Róan had been nice, but he'd been too on edge to enjoy it. Loban and Marik had been nearly at each other's throats through most of the evening, and so Euan had begged out early and convinced his wolfe to take him home. Loban didn't speak on the way back, and Euan followed his lead. He could sense the anger emanating from his wolfe, and he feared exciting it. Memories of Stephen began to rise up, but he tamped them down and kept walking, focused on keeping his breathing steady and his steps even.

The minute Loban closed the door to their quarters, Euan began pleading.  
"Alpha, if I had known he was your brother, I wouldn't have asked to go there - I didn't know that you two didn't get along! I didn't mean to be any trouble, Alpha, and I would never put you into a conflict intentionally, Alpha, please don't be angry with me."  
Loban looked more surprised at this outburst than anything else.  
"Euan, I'm not angry with you."  
Euan shook his head and took a step back from his mate.  
"I'm sorry, alpha. It was my mistake."  
Loban cocked his head, observing this strange new behavior.   
"Euan, come here."  
Fear flickered across the human's eyes before they turned empty. Euan was squeezing his hands tightly together and only tried to release them when he realized that Loban had noticed.  
"Yes, Alpha?"  
"Closer."  
Euan took three more steps.  
"Closer, Euan."  
Two more steps put him within striking distance. Loban reached out and snaked one arm around his beta's waist, pulling him close enough to look in the eyes.  
"What is between my brother and I is between my brother and I. You had nothing to do with it, and I will not take my frustrations with him out on you. Do you understand?"

Euan nodded, but it was clear he didn't believe. Loban sighed.  
"Euan, we must talk. I know you're frightened of me, but try to listen quietly for a moment before reacting, and whatever you do, don't look at the ground, understood?"  
Euan nodded again.  
"Good. Now, your role here is not, as you seem to think, that of servant or obsequious doxy. Your happiness is paramount, and I simply cannot continue this bizarre self-flagellation of the spirit you seem so fond of. You're frequently bitter, self-deprecating, shaky, and downright unpleasant."  
Euan was fighting to keep his gaze above waist level, lest his wolfe think he'd disobeyed, but his emotions were a mix of terror at what he deemed a thorough condemnation of his existence, and humiliation at the frank way in which his shortcomings were being discussed.  
"With that in mind,"  
Here, Euan fought to bring his attention away from his own feelings and back to what his wolfe was saying,  
"I'm putting you in school."

There was a long pause, because that string of words really didn't make any sense to Euan. He wrestled with the concept for a few moments, as Loban patiently watched him take it all in. Finally, a single question rose:  
"Why?"  
Loban laughed out loud.  
"Because you need it. Because it will help you make friends, and get adjusted here, and maybe I was thinking you might not feel quite so powerless if you were at least able to read."  
Euan turned all kinds of pink, wishing for a moment that he had his brother's complexion so that embarrassment wouldn't show quite so well.  
"I can read."  
Loban gave him a long, even look.  
"I mean, I'm not _good_ at it or anything. I haven't had to do it in a long time. Not since I was a kid; four or five or so." Loban was still watching him evenly. "But I can do it."  
"You'll start in three days."  
Now Euan was just scared.  
"Wait! Alpha, why - I mean, how are - I can't - it's not -" Euan took three deep breaths. "I don't want to!"  
Loban raised his eyebrows and looked sincerely amused at this.  
"That's the strongest reaction I've seen out of you since you came to in the infirm. Why not?"  
"I won't know anyone."  
Loban tilted his head.  
"You don't know anyone anywhere. That's sort of the thing about being new. You will, though. You're nice, you'll make friends."  
Euan's face tensed.  
"I'm too old. School is for small kids."  
"Mmm, not here. There are plenty of betas, just like you, who never got a chance to learn the basics. You won't be the only one there, and you won't be with cubs."  
Euan tensed more.  
"I won't be any good at anything."  
Loban shrugged and got to his feet.  
"I'm not going to entertain ridiculous notions of low self-worth. You can come to me when you have real concerns about the experience. I'll be in the baths."  
"Alpha - "  
"Euan." Loban's voice was low in warning which Euan read instantaneously. He backed away.  
"Sorry, Alpha."  
Loban rolled his eyes.  
"I'll be in the baths. Left some tea for you by the bed."

~:~

Marik was already up and moving around when Róan awoke, and for a moment, he was seized with a sense of fear - Stephen had always demanded that he and Euan be up hours before he was, to make breakfast and generally prepare for the day. Marik seemed unaffected, however, except that he briefly turned his attention to Róan at the sound of his waking gasp.  
"You're up."

Róan managed a nod - he still had to take a few moments every morning to process his change of situation, and wasn't entirely used to Marik yet. He stretched out his arms and pushed himself into a sitting position, and was just about to swing his legs to the side to stand when the pain hit. It felt like his balls were in a vice; unbearable pressure and a stabbing pain underneath. Shocked, he cried out for Marik, who was at his side immediately with cold water and a small capsule.

"Swallow it. Swallow now, little one."  
Moaning, Róan did as he was instructed and almost instantaneously, relief starburst through his body, starting in the pit of his stomach and spreading to the tips of toes.  
When he could speak again:  
"What - what was that?"  
Marik was still rubbing his back, his hair, kissing the side of his face.  
"It's the Change. The drugs we gave you when you first arrived tend to postpone it a few days. They must've worn off. I'm sorry, I should have given you something last night for it."

Róan took a few deep breaths and tried to process. Marik was urging him onto his back.  
"May I look, little one?"   
Róan snapped his legs shut immediately and Marik looked almost sorry.  
"I didn't mean to embarrass you; I just want to know that you're OK."  
"I'll let Ayo look later. He's a nurse."  
Marik consented and released Róan to lie back.  
"Rest a while; your body is going through a lot right now and you need to save your energy."  
Marik was pulling the chest covering which Róan had seen the guards wear earlier over his head. It looked flexible, he reflected, like cloth and not metal. Marik was still talking.  
"So no running around with Ayo today. No tours or heavy walking or visits." Marik continued. Róan's stomach sank. He'd planned to see his brother today.  
"Tell Euan to come here if he wants to see you; his change is long since completed and he's back on his feet." Róan breathed a silent sigh of relief.   
"And Medin will be here; well, he will after 3, at least. He's got classes nine to two and then Russian lessons and basic courses after. If you catch him with his hair braided again, tell me, and otherwise just try to get some rest today, little one." Marik smiled at him.  
"When I get home, I want to see you in that same spot."  
Róan nodded seriously and Marik grinned at him, then came close to the bed and leaned over to nuzzle a still-sleepy Róan on the cheek.

~:~

Euan arrived around ten, looking a bit green around the gills, but with his skin glowing in a way that Róan had never seen before. His dark eyes looked particularly bright, and he was closely followed by Ayo, who was practically seizing with excitement because Priton was due back from the border that night. Immediately forgetting his wolfe's instruction, Róan insisted on accompanying them both to Euan's first day of classes, and was through the baths and halfway dressed before either of them could object.

"And on the Ninth Order was bestowed the Resolution of LowShore, in which..."  
As the lecture on the History of the Wolfish Empire droned on, Róan and Euan were both very, very close to being completely asleep.  
In fact, most of the classroom was very close to dozing off. Ayo had ducked out somewhere after the noon seminar and hadn't been heard from since, so Euan was just nestling into a place to get a comfortable little nap when the human sitting to his right elbowed him lightly from his chair.  
"Previert."  
Euan glanced around anxiously, but no, the human was definitely talking - or whispering - to him. Unsure how to react, he just stared back for a moment. The human frowned.  
"Hello?"  
Clearly he wasn't going to be left alone until he responded.  
"Hi."  
The human's face relaxed into a smile.  
"Not Russian, then."  
"What's Russian?"

The human raised one eyebrow but otherwise ignored this and went on.  
"I'm Blaszni."  
"Blehs-nee." Euan tried.  
"Close. Try Blah-snee."  
"Bluhznee."  
"Mmm. Well, you tried. Where are you from?"  
Euan looked around, unsure how much information to give out to an essential stranger. Beside him, Róan dozed blissfully.  
"We are from the underground. He," here, Euan nodded, indicating Róan, "is my brother."  
Blaszni wrinkled his nose.  
"I suppose you kind of look alike."  
Euan headed this one off at the pass.  
"Different surrogates. Where are you from?"  
"A pretty little place in the Outer Islands of the ocean you might still call the Pacific."  
"The islands? I thought most of those were unknown to Wolfes and Invaders?"  
Blaszni looked sad momentarily.  
"Most. Not all."  
"Oh. I'm sorry."  
"No - no, it's OK, don't be. I mean, we're alive, right? That's what counts." Blaszni looked distant.  
"Did your family make it here with you?"  
Now the human's face went hard.  
"No. No one came but me alone."

Euan was about to ask more, but just then the lights flicked on and then their wolfish teacher, along with the rest of the class was staring directly at them. Blaszni looked unfazed.  
"Oh, I'm sorry," he said, idly readjusting his position in his seat, "Were we that loud?"


	7. What Am I Doing Here?

Classes ended at one, and so Blaszni, Róan, and Euan made their way to Blaszni's quarters for lunch. Róan lagged behind and actually had to stop a few times to catch his breath and get his bearings. Frowning, Blaszni went over to him after the third rest stop.

"What's going on with you, kid? Does everybody from the underground get winded walking 10 yards?"  
Bent over against the wall, Róan shook his head.  
"It's not me, it's the - it's the stuff he gave me - "  
"What stuff? Who gave it to you?"  
"Marik. Wolfe. It's - " Róan struggled to breathe evenly; why did he feel like the entire colony was sitting on his chest? "It's for the pain."  
Sudden clarity hit Blaszni.  
"For FUCK'S SAKE, kid, you're in the middle of the Change! The biggest damn physical stress of your life and you're up and prancing the halls like it's a goddamn springtime holiday."

Róan looked, bewildered, up at Blaszni, who was helping him to drape one arm over Blaz's strong shoulders.  
"Maybe your wolfe didn't tell you this. Changing's not easy. Takes a lot out of your body, and demands a lot of energy to complete. You keep this up, you'll be finishing it out in the infirm. Euan, get his other shoulder."

Together, they carried Róan the rest of the way to Blaszni's quarters, where he was laid down on Blaz's bed, offered a glass of water, and left to rest up. After Róan dozed off, Blaszni and Euan took up positions on the other half of Blaz's bed, and began chatting quietly about life in the compound.

~:~

"I just don't know how I feel about being here." Euan fretted, pacing by the windows in the main room of Blaszni's suite. Blaszni shrugged.  
"You're here. Don't worry so much about making it make sense. Just feel, just go. You have the luxury of doing that here."  
Euan laughed.  
"You sound like our Adjustment counselors."  
Blaszni grinned a little, puffing out his chest and adopting a thick falsetto.  
"I just want to see you settled and happy here, Euan! It's absolutely my priority!"  
Euan laughed outright.  
"You sound just like Baker!"

Blaszni laughed himself before quickly covering his mouth because the noise was stirring Róan. Euan just continued laughing, laughing so hard he was shaking, then he was turning very red, then tears were rolling down his cheeks and suddenly Blaszni realized he wasn't laughing anymore.  
"Euan. Fuck. What's wrong?" Blaz leaned over, put one hand on his shoulder and shook him lightly. "Come on, snap out of it. It's OK, whatever it is, it's OK."

Euan shook his head, still seizing with sobs.  
"It's not OK! It's not. I'm pregnant, I'm fucking _pregnant_ with a litter of wolfe cubs! I live with a wolfe! Not a man, a wolfe and he's big and scary and so fucking nice to me I can't stand it and I'm just confused, Blaz. I'm so fucking confused."

Blaszni took a deep breath.  
"He fucked you last night, didn't he?"  
"And this morning. That's not even the worst part." Euan flipped over onto his back, looking up at the ceiling and Blaszni edged closer. "I - I think I liked it. I didn't fight him, I didn't even resist. I just took it, you know. Even with Stephen, I didn't...and then - I don't know, he did something, and it - it felt good. Like real good, and then, I don't know, I was - I was begging for it. Fuck." Euan bit his lip as tears slipped down. "I'm a whore, I'm a fucking whore."  
"You're not a whore."  
"You're right. I'm worse. I'm a traitor. To my people, to my clan, to my species - and look at this, I'm crying. Fucking crying." he jabbed roughly at his eyes with his sleeve and sniffled. "I cried last night, too. After - after we were done. Don't know why; it just felt so...I don't know. Kinda scared me, I guess." Blaszni didn't say anything and Euan made a disgusted sound in his throat. There was silence, then Euan turned his head to look at Róan, still sleeping peacefully in his spot in the sunlight.  
"I really don't want Róan to ever know."  
"That you cried?"  
"That I liked it."  
Blaszni tried to hide his surprise.  
"Why?"  
"I don't want him to get confused, I've always - " Euan bit his lip, rubbed at his face again. "I've always raised him to have strength. How can I teach him to be strong when I can't even be that way myself? How can I teach him to be a man?" More tears now. "I'm just a child, I'm just a goddamn lonely child."   
Blaszni nodded understandingly, taking Euan into his arms.  
"We all are."

Distantly, the sound of a door sliding open attracted Blaz's attention and he got up, gesturing to Euan to stay.  
"Wait here."  
With some trepidation, he headed off into the other room, where his wolfe was just shutting the door as he entered.  
"Dorano! Hi."  
The wolfe raised an eyebrow.  
"What are you doing, Blaszni? Or not doing, as the case may be?"  
Blaszni immediately looked away.  
"I - I forgot, alpha. I'm sorry."  
Dorano watched him evenly, then reached out to play with one of Blaszni's braids.  
"And should I forgive you?" the wolfe asked idly. He met Blaszni's gaze and held it, the meaning unspoken between them.

Blaszni lowered his gaze, speaking in hushed tones.  
"Alpha, please - I have company. My friends are here."  
Dorano smirked.  
"Ask me nicely."  
Blaszni's eyes flashed up at his wolfe.  
"Alpha, will you - "  
Dorano tugged on the braid in his hand.  
"Beg me."  
Blaszni snatched his head away and crossed his arms over his chest.  
"Do it, little one, or face the consequences."  
Blaszni faltered.  
"Alpha - "  
"Counting down from ten - "  
Blaszni was on his knees before the word was out.  
"Please! Alpha, please don't do this to me, please no, please, I'm begging you."  
Dorano watched him for a moment.  
"And?"  
Blaz looked up uncomprehendingly. What more could he want?  
"And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I forgot, I'm sorry I was irresponsible and inattentive, I'm sorry, alpha; please forgive me?"  
Dorano took in a deep breath and considered this for a moment.

"Fine. Let's go and meet your friends. I'm absolutely curious to know who you've managed to lure into your little world." Blaszni cut his eyes at his wolfe and moved to get up. One hand on his shoulder stayed him. "Words, but you're tempting like that." Blaszni's face got hot immediately, but before he could respond, the weight on his shoulder was gone and his wolfe was helping him to stand.   
Freeing himself, he went on towards the bedroom. Dorano caught his arm again by the doorway.  
"Don't make this mistake again, little one. I won't be in a mood to forgive again."  
Blaszni nodded, pasted on a smile, and went in to introduce his wolfe to Euan and Ro.


	8. How Close

The afternoon meal was just simple stew with bread, and on top of it Róan wasn't allowed out of his quarters, so Euan had to content himself with a meal at home. Only Loban wasn't even there, since he had rounds at 1500 and was teaching a medic class at 1900 - he had left a message assuring his mate that he would see him at the night meal, but until then, Euan was on his own.

At 1400, he finished tidying everything he could tidy, and by half-three, he'd been for a walk, to the baths, and spent some time in the sauna. So shortly after 1600, he found himself wandering into the Social Hall of their wing, just looking for some company.

He found a small lounge, attached to the bathing rooms and positioned on a corner to allow for maximum sunlight. Inside, three humans, probably in their mid thirties, gathered around a small, low table, playing cards. Euan began to enter, then nervousness overcame him as he remembered that he was a stranger here. In his clan, they'd not treated strangers too kindly; they hadn't even treated him kindly, if he was being honest, and he could only count maybe one or two true friends through his entire life. Both were gone. Just as Euan made his decision to leave, the human whose seat faced the doorway looked up at him, and smiled.

"We were just looking for a fourth. Come in."

He had tan-olive skin, dark brown hair with a few grey notes that curled tightly and fell messily over his eyes. Reaching out one hand, he pulled one of the big, soft chairs closer to the table, and Euan noticed, when he reached, that he was heavily pregnant. Euan worked hard to look away. The man looked up at Euan again, who was still standing by the door.

"It's OK. We don't bite."  
His eyes flicked over Euan.  
"Melbourne." he pointed to himself. "Avion." this to the man across from him, also olive-skinned, but with sandy brown hair and blue eyes. "Virgil." this man looked similar to the second; his skin was much darker, but his eyes were the same piercing blue. "Cousins, those two."   
Both had hair cut short; shorter, in fact, Euan realized, than any beta he'd seen in a long time. With some trepidation, he moved towards them and Virgil and Avion both turned around to greet him.

After teaching him the basics of the game, they played a round or two for practice until Euan finally got the hang of it and began to relax. Halfway through the third round, Melbourne once again broke the ice.  
"So you're new here."  
Euan nodded and chuckled self-deprecatingly.  
"You can tell."  
"You seem anxious. It can be hard to get adjusted. That much, I remember."  
At this, Euan glanced up.  
"How long have you been here?"  
Melbourne shared a look with his two companions.   
"I've been bonded to my wolfe for 9 and a half years."  
Euan dropped his cards. Virgil and Avion laughed as he scrambled to pick them up.  
"Sorry! Sorry, I just - "  
"I know."  
"I didn't even know wolfes had been - that is, I didn't - "  
"When the three of us came here," Melbourne began, slowly collecting the cards to reshuffle them, "It was under very different circumstances than your own."  
"Mel, he doesn't need to hear the story."  
Avion's voice was light, but tinged with fear and threat. Melbourne examined him for a moment.  
"You're probably right, Avi. Story for another time."  
Passing the deck on to Virgil to deal, Mel turned to Euan.  
"Tell us about you."  
Avion looked up, signaling his interest.

"Nothing to tell. I grew up in a clan colony. My father died when I was 16, and I spent the rest of my time there trying to take care of my younger brother, Róan." Euan swallowed a knot in his throat. "I suppose I must have failed, because he's here with me now." The three were observing him quietly. Needing to say more, Euan went on. "There was nothing I could've done, though, really - the wolfes raided our clan; we had no idea they were coming and they took...everything. When I woke up here, my life was different. They gave me a million shots and made me take tests about my eyes and weight and ability to comprehend things that still make no sense to me. Then they left me alone, and there was this wolfe - my mate, Loban, and he - mated me, and then suddenly I was changing and the doctors gave me all these instructions and now I'm - "

Euan cut himself off, not sure how much he should share with these strangers.  
"You're what, Euan?" Melbourne asked gently, but he was reclining in his chair now and one hand was rubbing his stomach so Euan betted he already knew.   
"With. I'm with." he shifted his gaze to the floor. "I'm sorry, I can't - "  
"It's OK." Melbourne leaned forward, across the table, to touch his hand. "It's OK."  
Euan suddenly jerked his head up.  
"What about you? I mean, I'm sitting here, just pouring my heart out and all I know about you is your name. Who are you three? How did you get here?"  
Melbourne exchanged another look with Avion and Virgil, both of whom shrugged and looked disinterested. But surprisingly, it was Virgil, speaking slowly through a thick accent, who began to tell the story:

We were among the first humans to be made wolfish mates. We were the ninth, tenth, and eleventh, actually, and things were very different for us than they were for you. For one thing, we grew up before the time of the Underground. We lived through the Wars, and we remember the first day that Wolvish ships landed on this rock we call a home. I was traveling with my friends on the day that I was taken. There were no laws, then, mind you - Wolfes had just arrived on Earth and they had established no plan, no mindset, no code of behavior or protocol for interaction. The decrees of rights and responsibilities, the governance, the leadership - all of that was absent when our time came. All we were offered was a pack of half-starved half-savage wolfes who knew nothing in the world but to take what was not given.

So you may think these times you live through now are hard, but those of us who came at the beginning remember how it was. Clorst found me walking home one day, traveling what I thought was a safe route between our fortress home and the township. I didn't know what he was then - no one did. I was with five friends - six of us altogether, Avion and Melbourne included. Clorst was split off from his pack. He took me in front of them. They tried to help me fight him, but he was wild - long gone with the heat of his season. Then the rest came. Have you ever seen animals at a frenzy?

It was near two to one, and they fought and growled and tore at each other like strips of meat to get at us, and when they did, they were unrelenting. And the rest watched, pacing, growling, anxious for a chance. We were there until sunset, when they hoisted us over their shoulders and carried us back with them. Carried us, like cargo, but we couldn't have walked anyway. That night was more of it, and no food. The next day, the pain of the Change was indescribable. It lasted three days. His heat lasted seven more. He took me as a female before I was ready, a pain I suspect you've had the good fortune to be spared. I didn't know what was happening. I didn't know if this would all be over soon, or never. Screaming didn't help. Crying didn't help. I was lucky enough to lose consciousness for most of day one, and some of day two. Day two was the day they raided our fortress. Seeing no use for our leaders, who they suspected might incite the rest of us to rebel, they killed them. Any who resisted too strongly were shot. Everyone resisted. When I woke up on day three, the pain was gone and my father was dead.

Then they moved us; we went west, that was all we knew. A few hours later, we arrived at BlackForest. Six weeks later I couldn't keep anything down. Ten months later I whelped my first lit. I cried for three days and they kept me in the infirmary for a week and a half. Two years later I tried to run away. Four hours after, they brought me back. They found me tied up and gagged on the back of a truck, all ready to leave for Lout territory. They told me I was lucky. The world had changed a lot since the last time I'd been outside of the compound walls. Men were underground now; things were dangerous. Clorst beat me with his fists when I came home; this punishment was still tolerated and fashionable then. He showed me my children, told me if I ever left him again, they were dead. I haven't been outside of BlackForest since.

Euan was clenching his jaw to keep his silence. Virgil half-smiled up at him.  
"So you see, Euan, things will change. They will be better for your brother than they will be even for you."   
Euan stared open-mouthed at Virgil, who was calmly dealing another hand of cards.  
"How can you speak so calmly about that?"  
Virgil shrugged.  
"It is past. Clorst is different now; he does not beat or yell, and I have come to understand him. He loves me. I love him. We are mates. The world is different now. I am happy here; I have Avion and Melbourne, and many of the elders from our fort. My children grow like weeds, and this makes me happy. There is food and increasingly, freedom." Pausing in the act of placing one card on the table, Virgil looked sharply up at Euan.  
"But I advise you never to forget how close to animals these wolfes really are."


	9. Traditions and Promise

Blaszni was sick of looking out the window, but there wasn't a whole lot else to do. Midday programming on television was restricted to logistical announcements, war reports, and other news broadcast by the Empire or the Louts, and Blaz really had no interest in any of it. He'd braided his hair earlier, then unbraided it, then brushed it through with a hot brush and it was now sitting in a topknot at the center of his head. He looked at the chrono. It was almost 1700. Time for his husband to arrive home. Blaszni looked down at his hands. They were trembling. He got to his feet, tightened the sash around his waist, and made his way into the bedroom. He'd been bored all day, secretly hoping his mate would come home earlier, but also dreading the inevitable arrival.

His mate would be primed, he knew, at the moment of arrival - something Blaz both loved and hated about him. Blaszni had been mated to Dorano for almost seven months now, litterless, and he and his mate had developed a dynamic which was...unique, to say the least. Blaz often wondered if perhaps the spirits had not been so wrong in choosing him for Dorano's gift after all.

The door clicked, and Blaz scrambled from the chair he'd been in by the window to the bed, where he had been ordered to greet his mate. Collapsing prone into bed, he feigned sleep until he felt Dorano's heavy weight stretch above him and woody scent draw close. A quick snap of the teeth drew the blankets away from Blaz's shoulders, cast them to the side.  
"Sleeping, little one? There's penalty for that."  
Dorano nipped Blaz's shoulder lightly, startling him and drawing a smile to his face.  
"Just obeying orders, my alpha."  
"I said in bed, not asleep. Get up." The nip was not so light this time, and Blaz jerked his shoulder away before his mate could bruise. Stretching, he rolled over within the confines of his mate's arms and faced him. The soft fabric of the papery thin robe rubbed and bunched between them, amplifying the sexuality of the scene, causing Dorano to grow harder against him. His wolfe lowered himself onto his elbows, resting most of his weight on Blaszni.  
"Are you prepared?" Dorano growled out, close to his ear.

Heartbeat suddenly rapid, Blaszni nodded, put one hand to his wolfe's chest for reassurance. Dorano eyed him, then roughly separated his legs with one knee and pushed the robe up to his waist. Blaszni raised his hips a bit, ever ready to play the ribald, but tensed again as his wolfe unceremoniously slid one finger into his only-sort-of-damp entrance.  
"Not enough."  
"Then maybe you - "  
"It'll do."  
Before further suggestion could be made, his mate was plunging balls-deep inside him and Blaz sucked in a tight breath.  
"Dorano - "  
The wolfe's head was down, its possessor delighting in all the delicious ecstasy of the moment and too busy to mind his mate.  
"Dorano - "   
Blaz pushed a little at his shoulder, which made him groan and, biting twice at his mate's ear, demand:  
"Use my title."  
"My Alph - "  
The next words were cut off because Dorano was moving now inside him, deep thrusts, not the gentle seesaw of younger men, hitting twice the spot that seemed too sensitive inside him - would it always be that way? - and almost painful, then, unguided, finding the point of perfect impact in his depths. Blasz bit his lip, found it hurt, and chose his mate's shoulder instead. This seemed to set fire to his wolfe, and Dorano thereafter delivered every inch to Blaszni without mercy or pause.

One or two particularly aimed thrusts made Blaz's eyes water just a bit, but he bit down harder on Dorano's skin and raised his legs around his mate's back to compensate until he adjusted to a more manageable position. They didn't talk now, only growled and groaned and made soft noises of pleasure or disdain as each fought to best the other.

Blaz had already come once when Dorano began to knot inside him, so he shifted and whined at the swelling until his mate grew tired of the whispered complaints and growled once at his neck, a singularly pointed warning. Blaszni held his tongue, and by the time the knotting was through, he was close to peaking once more himself. Dorano groaned as the knot faded, thrust four times more into his mate, then came, expending himself completely as his orgasm reverberated through him. The slick, hot, entirely erotic feeling of his mate's surge inside of him set Blaszni off, and he burst over the edge seconds behind him.  
Dorano flipped off of his mate, stretching diagonal across the bed from where they'd ended up, his head towards the right left footend. Still panting and buzzed, he waved weakly at Blaszni.  
"Go and wash."  
Blaszni whined a complaint.  
"Now, Blaszni. Get up and go rinse yourself out."  
Blaszni didn't move to leave, only sat up and lowered his voice.  
"Alpha, please."  
Dorano raised his head, his eyes serious.  
"Blaszni, no. You know that what you want is not a possibility at this time. Go now and rinse yourself."  
Blaz rubbed at the skin on his shoulder, didn't move.  
"Your alpha has given you a command, Blaszni. Do you disobey?"  
Blaz shook his head fervently and got up immediately to make his way to the bathing rooms, his robe (now wrinkled) falling in messy pleats and hanging off of one shoulder. Halfway to the door, he paused and turned slightly to his wolfe.  
"It's just a silly tradition, Alpha. It doesn't mean it's real."  
Dorano listened for his footsteps to fade into the other room before answering.  
"I cannot say for sure, little one, whether or not I know of a single thing that's real."


	10. A Home By the Ocean

Four days later, and Róan was mostly back in working order. Still sensitive about being touched, and far too shy to bathe in public, but mostly together otherwise.

Blaz and Euan were working together, bent over a table in one of the studio rooms that faced the South. They were sharing a set of paints between them, the sunlight reflecting softly across the table and Euan's back, and Róan thought of the early mornings he'd spent watching his brother work by half-fire before, toiling away on some little thing or another before Stephen woke up. His brother looked up at him and smiled, and Róan grinned back.  
"Come join in. I'm showing Blaszni how to paint braic."   
Róan peered closer and, sure enough, his brother and Blaz both gripped the familiar white ceramic rings in their hands, Euan's half-painted in the traditional green, black and gold swirls and patterns Róan knew so well. Blaz's was mostly blue with traces of green and red, and was only about one quarter done. Róan gaped.  
"Where did you get those?"  
Euan smiled wide.  
"Loban got them for me. I told him what I wanted, and... he produced." Euan inclined his head and Róan looked to where an entire box of the thin flat bracelets rested by his feet. "Was supposed to be a surprise for you when you were up and at 'em, but I see my brother is an early healer."  
Róan grinned.  
"This one'll be for you, then."

Blaz looked up from touching the delicate brush to his work.  
"So that counts - his Change? As a reason for giving one of these?"  
"Healing." Róan nodded vigorously as he pulled up a stool to the end of the table.  
"We give them on all occasions - healing, growing, breaking, finding, birth, death, transition, recognition, apology, thanksgiving, and marriage."  
"At the time of their burial, most in our clan have upwards of one hundred."  
Euan cleared his throat and looked back down at his work, memories suddenly biting at his conscience. Blaszni, too, went back to painting.  
"Wow. How do you remember what each one is for?"  
Róan laughed.  
"I guess we just do. Well, also - different patterns mean different things. Once you know what you're looking for, you can read each bracelet like a story."  
Blaz looked down at his bracelet.  
"Oh. I was just painting the ocean."  
Blaz looked lost in his thoughts for a moment, and Euan looked over at his brother.  
"Eaten yet today?"  
"Twice. Leave me alone."  
"Just checking."

Róan picked one of the ringlets out of the box, fingering it slowly in his hands. Euan watched him.  
"I suppose...I should paint one for Marik."  
Euan smiled.  
"You should paint him two." Róan looked away.  
"Three. I should paint him three."  
Euan frowned.  
"Marriage, your new fertility...what's the third for?"  
"For finding me."  
Euan met his brother's eyes before taking him into a hug. Blaz looked up.  
"Hey, don't leave me out!" grinning, he set down his bracelet and joined in the embrace.

~:~

"So tell us, Blaszni, something about where you come from."  
Avion set down his drink on the low table in front of them. Blaszni glanced up briefly at the older man before returning his gaze to the table.  
"I was born. I grew up. I was taken. In between, there was the ocean."  
Avion tilted his head.  
"I think we were all hoping for something a bit more detailed."

There was a curious tone in Avion's voice, and Euan wondered if maybe he shouldn't have brought his friend along here after all. He had hoped the older humans would be able to draw something new out of Blaszni - something his friend, who remained kind but distant - wouldn't tell just him alone. The three of them tended to be gifted that way. Every day since the first day he'd met this group, he had joined in their daily gathering in the Social rooms. Sometimes they spoke, sometimes they didn't. Some days were better than others. Virgil spoke the least. Melbourne had told him once, on one particularly bad day where Virge couldn't seem to manage to speak or move at all, that Virgil had never quite forgotten the taste of freedom. None of them had. Today was a good day.

Melbourne had brought a plate of sliced melons and Blaszni had dug in with vigor, only pausing long enough to politely introduce himself.  
Virgil twisted a glass between his fingers.  
"In between, there was the ocean. You lived on a shoreline, then?"  
Blaszni laughed shortly.  
"Island. I haven't heard of a safe shoreline since before I could walk."  
Virgil laughed a little at himself.  
"My mistake, friend." he took a long swallow of his drink. "Sometimes, I'm afraid, I tend to forget." things were quiet again and Euan was afraid that maybe today would not be such a good day. Avion broke the silence.  
"An island, then. The Pacific?"  
Blaszni brightened, smiled.  
"You still call it that."  
"It will always be that."   
Euan wrinkled his nose.  
"What else would it be called?"  
"Since the Invasion, they've begun renaming things. Your Pacific Ocean is now officially known as the Sea of First Light. It marks the location of the first touchdown of Wolfish ships to Earth."  
Melbourne seemed to find this darkly humorous, so Euan mustered a half-smile.  
"We should not encourage this dissidence, gentlemen." Virgil grinned a little. "So, Blaszni," he continued, his peculiar accent making the name sound sing-song, "If you are not ready to talk about home, then at least tell us how you came to be here."

Euan looked at his friend with interest. Blaszni swallowed the melon he was chewing, cupped his hot tea and sat back in his chair.  
"I was a gift."  
"A gift?" Avion sat forward in interest. Blaszni laughed bitterly.  
"A bribe. My people - well, not my people; our ancestors made decision - they offered me as a gift to the Empire. In exchange for their silence about our home."  
Euan frowned.  
"I don't understand."  
Blaz glanced his way, then to each of the faces of the men before him.  
"I am not sure I can speak of this."  
"All men have secrets, Blaszni. We are elders of the old style. We do not tell lies, nor do we break confidences to serve some Wolfish end."  
Blaz was apparently satisfied by this, because he went on.

"My people lived inland - very far inland, and because of this, we were the last to be discovered. We saw them disappear - each of the other tribes before us, those along the shoreline and in the woods. When our time came, we sent our wise man into the forest to pray to the spirits for guidance and help. I was the solution they sent."  
Blaz's audience was captivated.  
"Dorano was the first wolfe to arrive. Leader of his recon team. He found our tribe waiting, all of us, in homes and by village posts - awaiting his arrival. He told me later that something different was in the air when he came. He hid away his weapon and walked straight on into our centre, and there, I was waiting for him. Bound and gagged and ready to be his wife." Blaz took a sip.  
"They offered me in exchange for his silence. He would go home, go back to his soldiers and leaders and tell them that the other tribes were all he found. He would tell them the interior was clear."

All the men exchanged looks of confusion.  
"What wolfe would agree to this? He could take your whole tribe, clear the island, and claim you as a mate with or without your tribe's consent. Why take a silly bribe that serves no Empire purpose?"  
Blaszni chuckled, bit his lip to control himself.

"He said the same thing at first - planned to do just that and told us so in no uncertain terms. Even raised his weapon to our holy man. Old Antrizil - who speaks to the spirits of the ancestors of our tribe - he just told him to go into the forest. Well, more like he tricked him into going. Pretty simple deception, actually. We shifted the markers while the two of them were speaking. Dorano thought he was taking the same way out he'd come in; he went into the forest, and when he came out, he agreed to our proposal." Blaz glanced away. "I was terrified; I'd sort of hoped a little bit that it wouldn't work, that he would go into the forest and never come back out, or come back and it wouldn't work, but...it never doesn't work. Dorano was a new wolfe when he returned; humbled and suddenly very frightened of Old Antrizil." Blaz grinned, remembering. "So of course I chose him to be witness at my entering. Dorano was so anxious he could barely perform."

Eight inquisitive eyes were looking at him now.  
"Entering?"  
"Yeah, you know, when you mate, for the first time."  
All eyebrows shot up.  
"You have witnesses for that?"  
Blaz was beginning to feel a bit embarrassed by his friends' reactions.  
"Yeah, but I mean, just to make sure you're doing it right."  
Melbourne snorted laughter and Blaszni looked offended.  
"Sorry! Sorry, kid, I was just - just hadn't heard of that one before."  
"Well, I think it's better than stabbing in the dark."

Now Avion joined Melbourne in laughter at Blaz's choice of words. Virgil didn't say anything, and Blaszni just crossed his arms over his chest in annoyance. Euan furrowed his brow, still fascinated by the story.  
"So what happened to him in the forest?"  
Blaszni shrugged.  
"Only Dorano, the spirits, and maybe Old Antrizil know."  
Blaz took another long sip, watched the clouds move outside of the window.  
"But I do know that when he returned, before he took me, he told me we would not be bearing a litter for a while." this seemed to strike a hurting chord within, because Blaz's voice changed minutely. "I don't know why."


	11. Red-Handed

**One week later.**

After spending the early morning in classes, Róan had decided to skip his afternoon course, and had gone home for a much-needed nap in the quiet of his own home. When he woke up, the sun was just moving into the afternoon sky and his stomach was rumbling from hunger. He'd missed the afternoon meal and hadn't spoken to his mate all day. He stretched, threw off the heavy blanket he slept under when Marik wasn't around to keep him warm, and padded barefoot into the hallway. A strange and sudden thump a few doors down caught his attention, and he whipped his head in that direction, listening carefully.

"Marik?" he called quietly, suddenly realizing how empty their quarters were and feeling very alone. There was another thump, which made Róan jump, but this time, it was accompanied by familiar laughter. Intrigued, Róan padded quietly farther down the hall, stopping when he realized the sound came from Medin's door.   
Alarmed, Róan opened it to a great surprise.  
"Medin, are you OK?"  
"Mate Róan!"  
Medin was in fact, very much OK, although probably quite a bit less so since the door had opened.

He and the young wolfe with whose legs his own were intertwined had identical looks of mortification and fear. Taking sudden action, Medin flipped the juvenile wolfe off him and jumped to his feet. The wolfe, for his part, took this as cue, got up and bolted out of the door, nearly knocking Róan over in the process. Róan caught just the slightest glimpse of tail as he went, and then he and Medin were left standing there together, just gaping at each other.   
"Medin, what's going on?"  
Medin looked anxious, eyes darting like rabbits, then shrugged.  
"I - I don't know."  
"Sit down." Róan said in a very blank voice. Medin did so, balanced anxiously on the edge of his bed, hair still mussed. "And stay sitting down until Marik gets home."

At this, Medin leapt to his feet.  
"Please don't mention this to Alpha Marik!" Róan could hear the sincere fear in his vocie, and it made him more suspicious.  
"Why don't you tell me what's going on." he replied, making no promises. Medin looked away, then sat down.  
"That was Walker. He's my..." Medin struggled for a word that would get him in the least amount of trouble. "Friend." he finally settled on.   
"Uh huh. And what was he doing in your room?"  
Without blinking, Medin answered:  
"He walked me home. He wanted to be sure I was OK. I wasn't feeling so great at classes today. Only thing is, he's supposed to be at school right now, so he didn't want to get in trouble. That's probably why he ran."  
Medin's tone dropped on the last word, and Róan pressed further.  
"Oh. So how long have you been home?"  
"Oh, not long." Medin kept his voice casual.  
"Long enough to shower. And change clothes. That's not what you left in this morning."  
"Yeah, I thought a shower might help me feel better."

"Oh. So you came home....like around an hour ago." Róan sat down next to Medin, who wisely held his position, on the bed.  
"I guess." Noncommittal.  
"So at 1300."  
"Yeah."  
"Don't you take lunch at 12?"  
No response.  
"So if you felt sick, why'd you wait an hour to come home?"  
Medin blinked quickly, but only shrugged in response.  
"How old is Walker?"  
"16."  
"So what year of general classes is he? I forget how schooling works here."  
Medin sensed a trap, but didn't know how to avoid the question.

"He doesn't take generals anymore; he's in training now."  
Róan nodded.  
"Ah. So then he _wasn't_ supposed to be in school right now."  
Medin thought fast.  
"I meant...warrior school."  
Róan just looked at him.  
"Stay here until Marik gets home."  
"No! Mate Róan, please!"

Róan shook his head. He wasn't sure what was going on here, but he was sure it wasn't right, and he knew for a fact that Euan never would have let him get away with anything remotely like this.  
"You had your chance to talk, Medin."  
"Please!"  
"Nyet."  
Róan went to the door to leave, and Medin played his trump card.  
"He'll beat me."  
Róan stopped.  
"What?"  
"I said he'll beat me. Mate Róan, please - you can't tell him, he'll be angry that I had guests here without permission. He'll be so angry, please Mate, don't tell him, don't!"  
"Tell me what?"  
Now both Róan and Medin looked up in terror. Marik looked towards Medin, and slowly cocked his head.  
"What's that smell?"

Still sitting on the bed, Medin started to tremble a little. Róan stepped in between them.  
"Marik! You startled me." he tried to smile and realized he probably looked just as nervous and guilty as Medin. He felt guilty too, which was unreasonable - he refused to believe he was scared to get in trouble for conspiring with a fourteen year old. Bravely, he took a few steps towards his mate.  
"You're home early, too. Holiday for everyone, I guess! Are you hungry? I can call for some food, we can - "  
"No, Róan." Marik didn't sound angry, more...distracted. He was still scenting the air, Róan realized, and once again his mate's strong abilities nearly frightened him. Sometimes it was easy to forget how different they were, how much of an advantage Marik had over him. Other times, it wasn't.

"There was a wolfe here." Róan saw Marik glance over at him, but the accusation only existed for a moment before he gathered more from the scent. "A juvenile wolfe." His gaze shifted to Medin. "The scent is still very strong." Medin was doing an admirable job of not looking as anxious as he must have felt.  
"Explain."  
"I just didn't feel well at school, and then he walked me home and he came in for a minute. Walker's just my friend. That's all that happened." Medin was not, Róan noticed, any more believable reciting his story to Marik. Marik took it in stride.  
"And where is he now?"  
"Um, he went home." Medin glanced for only a quarter second at Róan, but Marik caught it and frowned.  
"Róan, will you please wait for me in the bedroom?" It wasn't a question and Róan knew it, but he decided to take his liberties and treat it as such. He still remembered what Medin had said about Marik's anger.  
"I'd rather stay here."  
Medin looked immensely grateful and Róan smiled a little encouraging smile at him. Marik glared.  
"Very well. Medin. Both your guardians are here now, so I'm going to give you one chance to tell me exactly what is going on. Now."

Medin hesitated and looked up at Róan. Róan shrugged back at him. Marik took this badly, and his voice lowered to the one Róan had heard him use with new trainees who botched drills with stupid mistakes.  
"Róan, sit. Medin, listen." Marik himself drew out a chair from Medin's table and sat down in it, leaning forward with his elbow on one knee.  
"I'm not home today because it's a damn holiday." Róan took some affront to this statement.   
"I'm home because in between drills today, I ran into your classmate, Róan - Amesar. He's mated to one of my lieges, and had come to meet him after drills - a thoughtful touch, isn't that?"  
Róan wasn't sure if that comment was pointed or not.  
"Amesar said he hadn't seen you since the morning. Asked if you were alright, said you weren't feeling well and had gone home to rest. I rang home, no answer, so I thought maybe you'd gone back to classes. Rang the Center, and was assured that although Róan had gone home, he was fine - 'probably just caught whatever's been keeping Medin from classes.'"  
Marik looked the young varon over.  
"You don't look sick, Medi."  
Medin was studiously eyeing the carpet.  
"I didn't feel well this morning."  
"But Walker only brought you home just now?"  
Medin just quit answering.  
"Hmm." Marik said, as if musing over this piece of information for the first time. "That's more or less what I thought."

He got up and began to pace the room.  
"So while the rest of it seems like minor mischief, there is one piece that really concerns me, Medin: Just who the hell is Walker, anyway?"  
Medin glanced at Róan one more time. He opened his mouth to speak, but Marik interrupted him.  
"If you're thinking of lying again, don't bother."  
The calm words belied his anger. There was a long, torturous pause, then the teenager answered, frantically:  
"I love him!"  
Marik growled and sighed a resigned sigh that made Róan think they were both in for a simple long lecture, but again he saw a display of wolfish abilities as his mate was across the room in seconds. Before Róan could even register what was happening, he snatched Medin up by one arm and began to drag him towards his sitting room. Medin resisted, but Marik ignored the feeble protests and went on. Fearful, Medin cast a look back at his alpha mate.  
"Róan!"

The sound of his name, cried out in desperation, had Róan on his feet chasing behind them immediately. In Medin's sitting room, he met them. Marik still had a grip on the youth, but was using one hand to retrieve a thick strap hanging in the closet there. Róan took Marik's wrist in his hand and pulled it back.  
"Stop! What are you doing to him? Leave him alone!"  
Marik looked, bewildered, at his mate.  
"Róan, he has to be punished. You saw what he did."  
"But not like this! Not this way! He's a child!"  
"Exactly! He must be taught while he is young."  
Medin had ceased struggling now, listening rapt to the discussion between his two caretakers.  
"I won't let you beat him."  
"I'm not going to beat him. Cattle and rugs are beaten. Medin will be punished."  
"Don't touch him."  
"Róan, this is becoming ridiculous." There was warning in Marik's voice, but Róan ignored it again.  
"If you want to punish him, put him in his room or send him to bed with no meals or something!"  
"Put him in his room? He's in there half the day anyway. And I won't starve him - that's cruel."  
"This is cruel!"  
"This is going to keep him from becoming a little _tral_."

Both Medin and Róan winced at the curse and the venom behind it. That decided it. Róan remembered how harshly Stephen had punished Euan in his anger, and found his restraint only hours later, and regretted. His regret had been of little comfort to Euan, and it hadn't healed his wounds any faster. Róan would not stand to see it happen again, and especially not to someone entrusted to his care and control. Steadily, he straightened his back and tightened his shoulders.  
"Let him go."  
Marik was outright annoyed now.  
"Róan, enough. Find yourself in the bedroom."  
Róan ignored this.  
"Róan, I gave you a command. Don't make me add your punishment to his."  
This gave Róan pause.  
"You can't punish him for what I do."  
An entreaty, not a demand. Marik didn't respond, just raised one eyebrow. Róan glanced at Medin. The boy's face read more curiosity than fear, but there was still a tight tension around his mouth that spoke of anxiety. Róan found his strength again.

"I won't let you lay a hand on him. If you want someone to pick on, pick on me. Someone your own size, you bully."  
Now Marik and Medin were both goggling at him, but Róan was fired up now, and Marik could see in his eyes that there would be no backing down. The wolfe sighed, took a breath, and before Róan could move, took both the human's hands in his large left one. He released Medin.  
"Sit. Here." the boy complied mutely. "Stay."  
Then he turned his attention back to Róan.  
"Now you..."

As his mate half-marched, half-dragged him down the hall, Róan was filled with the miserable thought that he hadn't been able to protect Medin at all. Marik thrust him into the bedroom and slam-locked the door before Róan had even recovered enough to get to his feet. The quiet was eerie, and he settled by the door to listen. Then, a brief cry, but so short that he almost missed it, then silence again. The silence, he decided, was worse than anything.

He had nearly dozed off in his little listening post by the door when suddenly it opened, and in came Marik, cradling a sleeping Medin in his arms. Róan looked up at him, and the first terrifying thought he had was that the boy was dead. Then the even breathing and relaxed position registered with him. He got to his feet immediately and tried to take him from Marik, but the wolfe turned away and headed for their bed.  
"Let him sleep here, with us, for now."

Gently, he set down the sleeping Medin and settled him in the center of the bed, pulling the light blankets over him, and resting his head on a pillow.   
"But isn't he - "  
"Let him sleep."  
Marik's tone brooked no argument, but Róan didn't care.  
"I have to treat him."  
Marik looked baffled.  
"For what?"  
Róan couldn't meet the wolfe's eyes, turning his focus instead to the young varon in their bed. He smoothed some of Medin's hair back from his face, gingerly, as if the boy might break or wake at any moment. Softly, he said,  
"His injuries."  
Pieces began to come together in Marik's mind again. He tried to meet his mate's gaze, but Róan looked away.  
"Róan, he doesn't have any injuries. I haven't hurt him."

Róan just shrugged and stroked the boy's hair. The saline smell was strong, too strong to be just Medin and Marik realized that his mate was crying.  
"Oh, Róan." he tried to pull his mate closer, and Róan came weakly. "Little one, please try to understand. Nothing's wrong, nothing happened. Yes, I punished him, but only a little because he is a child. And he is not hurt; look, he's sleeping right now."  
"What - what did you do to him?"  
Róan shuddered a little when he asked this question.  
"I took the strap to him, just three times. I let him go and we talked - well, shouted about everything; he cried because he's emotionally exhausted, nothing more. He wasn't hurt, I'm telling you."

Róan didn't take his gaze off Medin and Marik realized that none of this was getting through to him.  
"Please just let me fix him, please. I'll take my punishment and finish his, but let me fix him, please."   
All at once, the realization struck Marik that there was really just he and Medin in the room. Róan wasn't there at all.  
"Róan. Listen to my voice. I need you to wake up, Róan."  
"He's hurt...my brother's hurt..."  
"Róan, no one is hurt. Euan is fine. You are fine. Medin is fine, but he's here and he's going to wake up and when he does I need you to be here with us."  
Marik had Róan's shoulders in his hands and was trying to force the human to look at him. Finally he did, but his eyes were mostly vacant, disconnected.  
"Is it my turn now?"  
Marik jumped back as if he'd been burned, released his mate immediately. The terror he felt, the horrible sickness at hearing those words from Róan...so blank and unresistant, so resigned...he turned away.  
"No. Your punishment is forgiven."  
Róan seemed confused, but didn't speak.  
"Get into the bed."  
His head snapped up again and there was life back in those eyes, but only for as long as they drifted to Medin to ask the unbearable question of with him here? and then they were empty again. Marik began to walk towards the hall to the private bath. Over his shoulder, he spoke the words he hoped would bring Róan out of his daze.  
"Stephen is gone now."

Relief lit Róan's features and he climbed onto the bed immediately, skimming his hands down Medin's sleeping form, checking each hand, each wrist for bruises, then his neck and there were none, then his ankles and legs and without any shyness, he lifted Medin's tunic and Marik left because he couldn't watch anymore.


	12. Who Do You Love?

When he returned to the bed, Róan was asleep, or pretending sleep, only now he was in the middle, shifting Medin to the side, and his arms were around the boy protectively. When Marik woke them for dinner, Róan was put mostly back together. Gathered around the low table, his mate was still quiet, but Medin was back to his usual bubbly self. Marik allowed this for a few minutes, chewing thoughtfully on slices of meat, before he spoke.

"What is his name, Medin?"  
Medin stilled immediately.  
"Who?"  
"Medin, if I have to go and find out who he is, his punishment will be double. Tell me."  
Medin decided immediately that discretion was the better part of valor and acquiesed.  
"Walker. His name is Walker."  
Marik narrowed his eyes in suspicion.  
"He only has one name?"  
Medin bit immediately into a piece of fruit. Marik took the rest from his hand.  
"Speak."  
the boy swallowed.  
"I'm not sure - "  
"You have only one chance, Medin."  
"Walker Arestam Churi."  
Marik handed the fruit back.  
"His primary name is a human name?"  
Medin held his tongue.  
"Medin." the name was a command.  
"His badi named him. His sire is an exile."  
Marik stopped eating. His eyes narrowed.  
"Does he have another name, Medin?"  
Medin eyed the far wall.  
"Melloz. His father's name is Melloz."

The room exploded into sound as Marik leapt to his feet, shouting, and Medin matched him.  
"Never again, Medin! Never in my home!"  
"It's my home, too, and he is not like them!"  
"A damn scourge on the Empire! Honorless spawn!"  
"Don't judge him for who he was born! I thought nobody cared about stuff like that! I thought we were egalitarian!"  
"Medin, he is not one of us! Filth, that's all he is! Vile abomination!"  
Marik was angry, pacing back and forth, thick dark tail lashing violently behind him.  
"He loves me!"

At this, Marik stopped all movement, stalking towards Medin, his body tight and face incredulous.  
"Love? You think he loves you? He left you, Medin, the second you were caught. Took off running with his tail between his legs. He abandoned you. He doesn't love you, he loves what you can do for him. It's a cheap trick to circumvent the rules. His kind have done it years hence, and they will do it years more. If he really loved you, he would be here now."

This effectively silenced Medin, who sat in shock for a few seconds before bursting into tears and running off to his room. Marik growled after him before sitting back down to his meal. Róan wanted to go after the boy, but feared invoking Marik's wrath and so he waited.  
"Alpha -"  
"Not now, Róan."  
Róan swallowed and picked at his plate. Marik, feeling regret for snapping at him, reached out to touch Róan's hand. The human jumped at his touch and Marik felt remorse sting at him. He'd forgotten that quickly how fragile his human was. He had allowed his anger to make a beast of him. Cursing himself, he tried again, seeking to meet his mate's eyes.  
"I'm sorry, Róan. I'm not angry at you."  
Róan watched him, unblinking.  
"You're angry with Medin."  
"Yes. No. No, I'm not angry, I'm just - concerned."  
Róan shrugged, glanced once at the door, then turned his gaze back to the window.  
"You shouldn't be so mean to him."  
Marik barely hid the cross look which flickered across his face.  
"He's caused a lot of trouble, you know."  
Róan shrugged.  
"I don't know, really. I get that he did something bad, but I'm not quite sure what. I don't really know how things work around here, you know, and it's not like you're rushing to explain it to me. Whatever it is, I don't think it warrants you yelling at him like that."  
"He yelled at me!"  
Róan shrugged again.  
"He's fourteen. You're - how old are you?"  
"Thirty-four." Marik sighed. "He's lied to us both, Medin has. He's lied to us and shirked his duties, left school without permission, behaved improperly with our servants, and for what? An afternoon tryst with some juvenile who hasn't even yet gained his age."

Róan listened impassively as Marik continued.  
"To bring a wolfe, juvenile or not, into my home without my permission is an insult of the highest order, Róan. I cannot allow such behavior to pass, because if I allow this, then I allow every other offense he might conceive of in his adolescent mind. In addition, to bring a wolfe into his room is remarkably inappropriate, especially for a boy not even of visiting age, and even more especially for a varon of his standing."  
"Visiting age?"  
"The age at which juveniles - wolfe and human both - are allowed limited courting visits - private time with each other, provided there is prior establishment of an intended or possible mating."

Róan digested this and went on.  
"And his standing?"  
"He is our varon; we are of the highest echelon of this pack. His behavior reflects on you and I more strongly than on him. If he misbehaves, it makes it appear that you are unable to properly rear him and that I am unable to control him."  
Marik sighed heavily.  
"That's probably the second worst part. If word of this gets out - if that Walker brags on about this to his friends, not only will Medin be disgraced, but us as well. We could lose a lot of face in the pack, making me open to challenges of my position."  
Róan made a face.  
"Challenges of your position?"  
"It's exactly what it sounds like."   
"All that? Over such a small matter?"  
Marik shrugged.  
"It's not a small matter, Róan. I wish it were."

Róan stared down the window once more before speaking, still not turning to look at his wolfe.  
"You said second worst part?"  
Marik growled low in his throat.  
"The absolute worst part is that Medin's juvenile lover is a Melloz."  
Róan waited patiently for clarification. Now Marik was staring off into the silence with him. They passed a few moments that way before he spoke again. His voice was low and disturbed, a tone that Róan had never heard him use before.

"Melloz was a small-scale Lout leader - psychopath, really, but their history paints him differently - who sought to better the bloodline of the Louts. They were weak, inbred - prone to genetic problems, disease, and base behavior - no better than hogs at a watering hole. They lived in squalor and conflict. Melloz, in a rare moment of Lout brilliance and clarity, decided that the best way to change all this would be to enrich his bloodline...with our own. We lost seventy-two soldiers to his sick experiments - he cut them open, changed their organs, implanted embryos of his own making - and all because we failed to retrieve them. Now, some twenty years later, we have near six hundred half-Lout progeny to show for it. They are simple, they are slow, they are witless and consistently criminal. They have no understanding of honor, love, justice, or what it means to carry your litter's load. They understand only the desire for power, and a driving urge to belong. It seems our pack mentality was the only thing that got through."

Marik was wringing his hands, and odd tic that Roan had never seen on a wolfe before.  
"We let them into our packs every now and then, here and there - those whose mothers or fathers, badis or sires, wanted out of the Melloz way of life, wanted freedom. We let them in because they do, after all, carry our blood within their veins. But we do not let them lead and we do not ever trust them alone. And we most damn certainly do not let them mate."

Marik bit his lip thoughtfully, then released it.  
"Now Walker, from what Medin tells us, has a human birther, which makes him only one half Melloz - perhaps some of the problems will be mitigated, but..."  
Marik drifted off into his own thoughts, his voice sounding worried and distant.  
"These Mellozians - Roan, you just don't know. They look like us, they talk like us, but they are not like us at all."

Róan stayed quiet and picked at his plate, which Marik only then seemed to notice.  
"You don't like it?"  
Marik's voice still sounded strange, and so Róan moved to avoid conflict.  
"No, I like it."  
"You're not hungry?"  
Róan shrugged.  
"I'm not used to this much food."  
Marik nodded; apparently his mate's answer had been acceptable.  
"Well, eat. You have to eat." he returned his attention to the window, chewing slowly, and it was obvious that he was thinking about Medin.


	13. Moonlight

The quarters were that quiet gray-black typical of sleeping households when Medin snuck out that night.  
He cut through the bathing rooms, leaving his own bedroom door untouched so as to minimize suspicion, and made his way silently down the hall, out of the quarters, and into the main corridors of the compound.

He reached the thirtieth level easily and knocked twice at the door he'd been told earlier. There was a long pause, and Medin almost thought that he'd been forgotten, or at least delayed, and he was just beginning to debate going back to his bed when the door slid open halfway and he was met with Walker's worried face.

"Are you OK?"  
Medin warmed at the concern.  
"I'm fine. Let me in."  
Walker moved hastily to let him pass and slid the door closed silently behind him.  
The second he was inside, the wolfe was on him, kissing him greedily until Medin pushed him back to get some breathing room.  
"I was so worried! Is your vare angry?"  
"Roan's never mad. Marik is, though. He wants your blood."  
Walker made a face.  
"That's violent."

Medin shrugged, then looked around for somewhere to sit. Seeing only the bed and the chair that Walker himself had taken, he hesitated for a moment before taking up a place on the very edge of the mattress. The rooms were sparse, being intended only for housing overnight guests of the Empire, recovering patients needing extended but noncritical care, or as a temporary sanctuary for sudden amnesty intakes. There was only the bed, one large window which now let in the moonlight, the small desk and chair, as well as a call system and, to the far left, cushions and a low table for dining. A private bathing room was set off to the right. The bed was directly across from the window, and the bright moon shone on it.

Walker took his hand.  
"Please remember the things I told you, little one. I love you. You know that, don't you?"  
At the address, Medin looked vaguely uncomfortable, and taking his hand back from Walker, moved farther onto the bed.  
"You're a Melloz, right, Walker?"  
Walker's eyes darkened, but he nodded.  
"I am. I told you that when we first met. I didn't want to hide who I am from you, ever."  
Medin fingered the linens on the bed.  
"Today, when I was talking to Marik, he said - "  
"Medin, I have told you before that the things he says to you will be lies about me. Wolfes do not care for Mellozians. He only seeks to keep you safe, but he thinks that means that he must keep you away from me."  
Medin looked heartbroken for a moment.  
"But I am safe with you."  
Walker moved to sit on the bed, next to him.  
"I know you are, beauty. Because I will always protect you. I love you."

Medin looked away again.  
"He told me you would say that."  
"And I told you he would do the same. He wants to turn you against me, Medin, that's all."  
Medin chewed on his tongue for a minute.  
"Why did you leave me today, if you love me so much?"  
Now it was Walker's turn to look heartbroken.  
"What would I have done, Medin, had I stayed? Only succeeded in angering your caretaker more. We were caught, puppy. The best I could do was minimize the trouble to both of us." Walker edged closer, grinned a bit in a self-effacing manner. "And I'm strong enough for my size, but I don't think I could take on your papa."  
Medin half-smiled and chewed his tongue again.

"Come. Stop worrying. You are here and I am here and we will be together. If they want us apart now, so be it, but when you are older and I have my position, then I will take you as my mate and then Marik will understand. I am not here to hurt you, Medin. I am here to love you."

Then Walker touched his face, gently, and Medin didn't pull away when he leaned forward to kiss him. He didn't pull away when Walker began to undress him either, and it wasn't until they were both stripped and tangled in the bedlinens that Medin began to worry that this was exactly what Marik had warned him about.  
"Walker? I don't know if we should be doing this."  
Walker looked up from where he was settled between Medin's small thighs.  
"We won't, then. We don't have to do anything you're not prepared for."  
He moved up to lay his head on Medin's chest, laid a kiss there, then got to his feet.  
"I'm going to go warm some mint water. I've got a bruise from practice yesterday that could use a hot soothe."  
Walker stretched, his muscles in prominent relief in the silver light.  
"Back in ten."

Medin waited until he heard the rushing of water before tiptoeing out of bed, the sheet wrapped around himself, towards the door. The closer he got, the more he got the sinking feeling in his stomach which meant that something was wrong. He tested the door. It didn't yield to his touch. Medin thought he might throw up. He tried it again, but it was definitely, irrevocably locked to only Walker's touch. Medin wondered when he'd had time to do that. Then there was movement behind him and he turned to see Walker staring calmly at him, holding a bowl.

"What's wrong?"  
"Um..."  
Medin found he couldn't form words. Walker sensed the atmosphere change in the room and immediately set his bowl down, holding his hands up in surrender to Medin.  
"It's OK. It's OK. I only locked it just in case. I didn't want anyone else walking in on us, you know. It's fine, we'll open it up."

He performed a series of slide-touches on the door and sure enough, it slid open. Medin tried it and this time, it responded to his touch. He breathed an internal sigh of relief, and immediately felt stupid for being so paranoid after one stupid little comment from his jealously protective adopted father.  
"See?" Walker smiled wide, his teeth bright in the semi-darkness. "So come on, let's lay down a while."  
Medin allowed himself to be led back to bed, then kissed. Walker spread his legs once more, moved between them, loved him so well with his mouth that Medin felt boneless and languorous afterwards. He felt quite lethargic, actually, even so much that he wasn't sure how much time had passed when he woke up to Walker's fingers slipping inside of his ass.  
"Fuck, Walker!"  
He pulled away immediately. The wolfe looked evenly at him.  
"It's OK. I'm not going to hurt you. We talked about this, remember?"  
Medin did remember, but he didn't think tonight -   
"I promise, Medin, that I will leave no lasting marks on you. I won't finish within you and I won't change you, OK?"  
Medin still looked ultra-concerned.  
"What if someone knows - "  
"And how would anyone know, Medin, unless you told them? I will not bring the Change on you. Nothing's going to happen. Just let me try this. It's an act of love. You do love me, don't you?"  
Medin had no idea what the answer to that question was, but he did know that he seemed to be in very deep and he didn't want Walker to leave angry. The wolfe leaned forward to kiss him.  
"I promise I will not hurt you."

Gentle though Walker was, it was still painful at first, and Medin had to stop him twice to help re-lubricate. After several awkward attempts, however, they fell into an even rhythm, and Medin, who had been through with the whole experience from the start, waited impatiently for the wolfe to finish. The locking swell lasted only a few moments, and Medin knew that Walker should come not long after that. It surprised him, therefore, that his wolfe continued to thrust, and hadn't yet pulled out.

"Walker." Annoyed, Medin pushed at his chest. Why did he always have to be the responsible one who remembered everything? The wolfe didn't respond, too caught up in the ecstatic feelings.  
"Walker!"  
The wolfe ignored him.  
"Walker, stop it."  
This time, angry. The wolfe opened his eyes for only one alarming second, before willfully closing them again. Alarmed, Medin put real force into the push this time, determined to dislodge the male.  
"WALKER! STOP! NOW."  
Walker snapped his eyes open, bared his teeth and growled at Medin, his fangs snapping shut inches from the human's bare throat. Medin, properly terrified, fell back immediately. Walker's words rumbled from his chest, still mixed with the snarling growl. His speech was deliberate and harsh, tempered distantly, Medin thought, with laughter.  
"It's too late, Medin." he said, still thrusting even-paced, "For either of us to stop."


	14. Undone

"Walker, please!"  
Medin was sobbing openly now but no longer resisting, hands clenched tightly to the edges of the bedsheet and eyes shut tight against the scene in front of him. His wolfe was betraying him. Walker was betraying him. He couldn't comprehend this fact. Walker grumbled something incoherent and came in a quick burst, twitching a few times after. Medin sucked in an uneven breath that was equal parts relief and horror and curled immediately onto his side.

Walker lay basking in his own satisfied afterglow, undisturbed by Medin's distress and close to dozing until a low sound and movement woke him. Medin was rolling quietly off of the bed, looking around for his clothes, dressing -

"Where do you think you're going?"'  
Medin looked up at Walker, eyes miserable with hurt and futile anger.  
"I want to go home."  
Walker growled, shook his head.  
"That's stupid. Come back over here. You're not going home."  
Medin ignored this, continued to dress, wiping occasionally at his face with the back of one hand.  
"Medin, I said you're not going home. You'll Change here. I'll watch you."  
Medin put his shoes on.  
"Medin," Walker rose, shifted to a position where it would be easier to come after his boyfriend, "I said come back over here. You're not going home."  
Medin only mumbled something in response, but evidently Walker understood it.  
"Say that again, little one." his voice was pure threat, but the darkness hid his face and the moonlight made Medin bold.  
"I said you're not my alpha. I don't have to do what you say."

Walker raced him to the door, threw him against it, clamped one hand down over his mouth.  
"Don't you make a sound, Medin. Not one sound. You just listen. Listen to me when I tell you that what I did was for your own good; for the good of both of us. Listen to me when I say that you will not disrespect me and you will not disobey. Listen to me when I say that your precious Marik will never be half the alpha I already am. Do you understand what I am saying, Medin?"  
Mouth still covered, Medin nodded, the action rubbing his cheek against the door.  
"Good. You will learn to listen, because I, also unlike your Marik, will not tolerate a disobedient mate."  
Walker released him, pushed him away and moved back towards the bed, looking for his own clothes. He found them in a pile by the foot of the bed, and he went through them, rifling through his pockets for a moment before he pulled something out, then thrust it at Medin.  
"It's for the morning."  
Medin looked down at what was in his hands, and sure enough, it was a med packet from the infirmary - painkillers. For the morning. Medin swallowed, looked back up to where Walker, half clothed, was sitting on the bed. His wolfe looked sharply up at him. "Now get the fuck out."

Confused but grateful, Medin opened the door and practically threw himself out into the hallway. He didn't stop running until he was in the final hallway that led to Marik's quarters - home.

~:~

It was nearly 0400. Róan rolled away from his mate, who slept deeply beside him, and towards the window. The moon was still bright in the sky, casting a silvery glow over their bedroom. Nearly 0400. He could go to the early meal. It wouldn't wake Marik if he left; he had learned in the few short weeks he'd been here that his mate slept like the dead.

He might, however, be angry to learn that Róan had left their quarters without his permission in the night. It might seem like sneaking out, and Róan was not in a mood or position to anger or even annoy the wolfe.

A shuffle in the hallway brought his thoughts back to center, and he remembered the same fear he always felt when his mate was gone and there were strange sounds in the night.  
"Marik." he whispered, not really wanting to wake the wolfe, but willing if he, perhaps, were sleeping lightly. Marik didn't even stir.  
He heard the shuffle again and suddenly felt silly for his fright - it was probably just Medin again, restless or hungry or just up in the middle of the night like he was. The shuffle changed into the dull slide of a door opening and Róan decided that it was most definitely Medin. Maybe the boy would feel like talking; he could keep Róan company until they both fell asleep, and, after all, this may be the only time they would have to talk, away from Marik's watchful eyes and ears.

Róan slipped out of bed, resting his feet silently on the floor by the bed before tiptoeing out of the bedroom and into the hall, sliding the door gently shut behind him. He made his way down the near-lightless hallway; he was used to navigating in the dark, had had to do it plenty of times in his clan, when torches ran low or danger was nearby, or nighttime raids went on. Feeling for the panel to open Medin's door, he slid it open. Dim light filtered out.

Medin was sitting on his bed, staring at something in his lap. He jumped when he the door slid and Róan saw him look frantically around before seeming to give up, shaking his head and sitting back on the bed. Medin was fully dressed, but his hair looked mussed, the usually only mildly unruly waves flying wispy from the clasp he'd put on it. His eyes were red and his breathing seemed uneven, even for someone who had been recently startled. Róan was worried immediately.

"Medin, what's going on?"  
the boy looked up at him once, desperately, and began to cry.  
Róan came over to hold him, and Medin collapsed into his arms.  
"Is this about Walker?"  
Medin stiffened immediately, pulled away.  
"Wait, I didn't mean - Medin, what happened?"  
Róan was sincerely bewildered.  
Medin wouldn't meet his eyes, only continued to cry, clinging tightly to the satchel in his hands. Róan pried it from him, let the boy go on sobbing.  
"Painkillers? Why?"  
Medin took several deep breaths, pulled himself together enough to speak.  
"Walker. He did it. He took me; he Changed me."  
Róan looked back at the satchel in his hand. He opened it and recognized the odor immediately. This was the same chew he'd been given on the second day of his Change, when he refused to swallow anything but water. He would know the smell anywhere: it was like ginger with a thick, gritty, soapy flavor. Róan took in the tears, the meds, began to put pieces together and suddenly realized what this all meant.  
"Oh, Medin."  
Medin began to cry again, moved to lay flat on the bed, and Róan listened for the next half hour as, between tears, Medin told him everything.


	15. Taken Away

It was bright morning when Marik opened his eyes. He had no morning commitments today - what had woken him? The bed felt cool to his left and he realized that Róan was gone. Maybe his leaving had woken him. A retching sound echoed from the hallway. Ah. It was the sound that had woken him, then. His ears twitched as he sat up, and faint hope tickled his belly. Was Róan sick? The early signs of a litter, perhaps? Marik thought back - he and Róan had only been together a few times since he'd changed, but even once could be enough to sire a litter.

With these thoughts racing through his mind, Marik got out of bed and eagerly made his way down the hall to the private baths.  
He was not prepared for what he saw.

Medin was crouched - no, crouched was too gentle a word; collapsed was more like it - over tiled floor of the shower room, clothes soaked, face ghastly pale and eyes glassy. He was making a low keening sound, which echoed against the walls and gave an eerie feeling to the scene. Róan, soaked wet himself and only half clothed, had one knee leveraged against Medin's body, which he was struggling to lift, and was prying what appeared to be a chew from his mouth. The far showers were still running.

Marik felt like fighting. He felt like howling and beating his fists and tearing his teeth into whatever invisible evil had dared to do this to his Medin, his little love and only son. Instead, he found himself at Róan's side in an instant, lifting Medin bodily from the ground and carrying him into the bedroom. He patted rapidly greying cheeks, laved the forehead to try to bring life back into emptying eyes. Distantly he heard Róan's voice:  
"I think he's having a reaction."

Then everything was a gray and blue blur until the doctors were pulling Medin from his arms; in that moment, he didn't want to let him go. This was Medin, his own; the child he'd found himself, alone in the woods, his scent like red roses against a setting sun. When Marik had sniffed at him, in full wolfish form, the child had only giggled and stretched his hand out to touch him. He was so small; only then getting good at walking and they had far to go, so Marik had carried him on his back until they reached the camp, not changing form for fear of startling the boy, who was still so young. Medin fell asleep with two fists balled into his fur, and Marik loved him immediately. He was the first thing Marik could call his own. At the camp, the leaders took him away.

He was only twenty-two then; still halfway a cub with no mate, no home of his own, no position and no means of survival other than what he was given. They told him he wasn't ready. It had taken nine years for him to prove otherwise.

So he couldn't let go now, not when Medin needed him so much, when his very hands were the only thing that held the boy together, kept him from breaking. How could he let him go? Then he was growling, teeth bared back, ready to fight anyone who stood between him and his child, and now there was a prick at his side and everything went sort of gray. The last thing he saw was the doctor's back as he rushed away with his Medin.

~:~

Walker was pacing his room in annoyance. His badi had disappeared somewhere in the afternoon, wherever it was he went - Walker wasn't sure and didn't care - and wouldn't be back until the night meal. Medin was missing. He'd paged his quarters twice from an anonymous room, leaving a message to meet him at noon by the baths. Medin was usually quick to obey, but tonight, he was nowhere to be found.

Walker rumbled to himself. The disobedience would have to stop. He was not in the mood for an uncooperative mate. Not now, and not ever. His stomach had complaints of its own, and so he was just on his way the meat locker to see what his badi had stocked up when the a sound near the front stopped him. It was the slow, scraping slide of a door being opened.


	16. Action

When Medin came to, Róan was waiting for him. His mouth felt mossy, soft and sticky from lack of water. The man was by his side in seconds, a cup of water held close to his lips.  
"Slowly."

Medin swallowed, handed it back, and immediately Róan was hugging him, not tight enough to hurt, but tight enough that he was sure his adopted badi had been kept completely terrified, absolutely on edge until his awakening. Medin smiled a bit, swallowed again, tried to speak. His throat ached when he moved it, so he just whined instead. Róan stroked his head, stepped back.

"Six days. You've been under six days. Stasis, they said, to help you heal. You had a reaction to the chew Walker gave you. Another hour and you would have been dead." Róan was shaking, tears resurfacing. "I - I didn't know. I'm sorry. I tried to - "  
Medin frowned, took Róan's hand in his own, squeezed it tight to tell him that it was OK. Róan took six deep breaths, let each out, and squeezed Medin's hand back.  
"They let you Change while you were under. It's done now."

Medin nodded, sighed and laid his head back down on the pillow. Suddenly he looked back at Róan and tried to speak a question, but a shooting pain went down his throat and so he tried to mouth it, but Róan didn't understand. Medin frowned, pointed to the water. Róan offered him another cup, which he sucked down greedily.  
"Slowly. Slowly, and it will help you get your voice back."  
Medin ignored him, finished the cup.  
"Walker?" his voice was tinny and small, but clear enough for the fear to come through in just that word.  
Róan shook his head.  
"Missing. Escaped. Marik went to him - they fought. Both were brought to the infirmary. The doctors put them in stasis. The next day, Walker was gone."  
Medin requested more water. Róan brought it to him.  
"Papa?"  
"Walker's mother cut his throat. When they went looking for her afterwards, she was gone, too."  
Medin sucked in a sharp breath and Róan let him fester in fear for a moment before continuing.  
"Guards got to him before the Death Wolf did."

Medin exhaled slowly and reached for more water. His hands were shaking. Just then, the door swung open and the Doctor entered.  
"Ah. He's awake, then." he smiled in a satisfied way and walked over to Medin, who looked up at him warily. "Your vare here was quite worried about you - glad to see you making your way back to well."   
The doctor began examining him, touching his skin in a number of different places, feeling for his pulse, rubbing a hand through his hair to check his scalp.  
"Very good; you seem to be in good health for a boy who was once just hours from the grave. Come, lay back and let's take a look at your Change."

Róan's eyebrows shot up, but Medin just quietly complied, kicking down the bedsheets and hitching his tunic up to reveal himself. The doctor was quick, and after giving Medin a generally clean bill of health, he ordered two more days of bedrest under supervision in the infirmary, then six more days at home. As he left, Medin let out a long sigh. Róan looked up.  
"What's wrong?"  
Medin was staring at the wall, focusing hard on something.  
"Everyone's going to know."  
Róan cocked his head, listening.  
"When I go back to classes and Walker is gone...everyone's going to know." he looked away again, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. "I'm so stupid."  
Róan shook his head, held the boy again in his arms.  
"It will be alright." he said. "Everything will be alright."

~:~

"I want his head."  
Róan didn't answer, just wrung the cloth out in the bowl, then dabbed it again over Marik's healing neck.  
"I know."  
Marik made a sound like a growl, but it was interrupted by the wound. Róan dabbed at the cut again, but Marik stopped him, gripping Róan's wrist in one thick hand.  
"I want his head." he repeated. Róan swallowed and flicked his eyes to the floor in a show of submission.  
"He was only defending his son, Marik. You or I would have done the same." He flexed his wrist in Marik's grip - to remind him. Marik released him and shook his head.  
"Not him. The boy."

Róan exhaled.  
"Alpha Marik, please don't. He's gone. He's not coming back. He's no threat to you anymore, and he's no threat to Medin. Please, Alpha. No more bloodshed."  
Marik scoffed.  
"No more human bloodshed, you mean."  
Róan bridled at the implicit accusation.  
"Walker is not a human, so I'm sure I don't know what you're implying."  
Marik shrugged.  
"Just that you wouldn't be so quick to jump to his defense were he full blooded wolfe."  
Róan wanted to swear and swing, but he bit his tongue, dropping the cloth back into the small bowl of water and getting to his feet.  
"I'll see you at home, Alpha." his tone was icy.  
Marik groaned.  
"No, wait - I'm sorry, kit. Please, don't go. Stay." Róan did as he was told, but refused to meet Marik's eyes. "It's not you. I'm not - it's just very frustrating, Róan. You have to understand that. Seeing Medin hurt like that and then just...letting his attacker escape? It hurts my very soul."  
Róan softened a minute amount.  
"He didn't go free, Marik." Róan's face turned hard. "He ran like a coward, like the little boy he is, and now his only hope is to lead the life of an exile, or else beg his way back into the Melloszians and live lower than he would even here."  
Marik signaled his accordance with a raise of his right hand. Róan went on.  
"From what you've told me, Alpha, the life of an exile - or a Melloszian - is not a happy one. I would hardly say that Walker escaped."  
Marik smiled a little, glad to see the fire back in his mate's eyes.  
"You want his head as well."  
"I want my family back."  
the words slipped out before Róan could contain them. Marik studied him quietly for a moment.  
"Your clan family, or us?"  
Róan's silence was his answer. They didn't speak again for the evening, Marik lost in thoughts of revenge, and Róan lost in thoughts of home. When the afternoon meal came at 1600, Marik was asleep and Róan was sitting by the window.

The compound came under attack at 1730.


	17. A Way In

The West Wall went first, took the hardest hit. The oat and soy fields burned fast. Six soldiers dead, fifteen wounded. Shouting all around. Blood on all the floors. "Louts! They come from the South!"  
The shout was repeated through all the hallways, all the corridors, across courtyards and into all the nooks and crannies of the compound. The walls blasted commands, alarm beacons rang in low tones, and Wolfes rushed through the hallways, silky-looking armor over their chests and weapons slung over their shoulders.

In the infirmary, Marik was alert at the first sound of the alarm, raising himself up in the bed, gRóaning a bit as he did so, but already energetic, angry and determined to destroy. His eyes were sharp, pupils small, Róan noticed, as he moved to get out of the way. He pushed Róan back with one hand.   
"Róan, get into the room with Medin. I'll get you guarded, you'll both be safe. If it lasts very much longer, I'll leave word for Euan and Blaszni to both come to you - STAY TOGETHER at all costs, do you understand me? Stay with your guards and stay away from any of the exterior walls." Marik was dressed by now, ready to run.   
"I'm going now, Róan. Stay here. I love you."  
And like a flash, Marik was gone, running through, barking orders and demanding answers in Wolfish, Russian, and English, and Róan was begin escorted back into Medin's room by a guard.

Medin's eyes were wide, panicky.  
"What's happening?" his voice was still not above a whisper.  
"We're under attack." Róan was staring strangely out of the glass of the infirmary room, trying to gather more information from the environment. All announcements had switched into Wolfish for now, only occasional ones in Russian and English warning humans and children to move into the interior compound walls.  
Medin was trying to get up, but Róan put a hand on his chest to hold him back down.  
"Stay. You are not well."  
Medin looked frightened.  
"Marik has sent us guards. We are safe here. Lay where you are and try to stay calm. It's just a minor attack." Six wolfes armed with long staff-looking weapons dashed past. Róan bit his lip. "It'll be over before you know it."  
Medin looked at Róan, eyes still wide, and silently, he obeyed.

Marik cut his way into battle, scy swinging, weapons set and ready to deliver the killing blow. Louts had run down the border guards, pushed somehow into the West fields, and near six hundred Wolfes ran out to meet them. Marik, a first-taster, made his way through the thickness of bodies, the moving mass, enduring hot blood and itching fur and the smell of smoke and violence, pushing always, ever closer to the edge, searching out his own enemy amongst the line. Louts never attacked from a distance. They loved to linger nearby, to see their targets for themselves. Marik killed two of them in his first line, swinging his scy bodily through one's shoulder, embedding it in the torso of another. He felt alive. He vaulted a rush on the left side, deceived right but then charged and caught the second kill unprepared. The sky was red with evening light. Marik charged again. They would finish before the night.

~:~

The assault on the compound was fast, but brutal. Louts lacked in strategy, but excelled in force of attack. Long shot whitefire cannons burned through golden grass, laid black tracks through field and treeline and ended in charred stone walls. Marik was walking with his team, surveying the damage. Rage burned like fire through his soul. His compound had been attacked - not taken entirely, of course; still breathing unconsumed, but struck and burned. They would pay for this mistake. The Louts would pay dearly for this mistake. He would cut their stomachs open and let them bleed out alive. He would tie them to their own burning cannons. He would rend them, bone from blood, until he'd had enough of hearing them scream. He would make them suffer.

Marik wiped his weapon clean, touched one hand to his neck which was still aching, sent his heart up to the evening sky, and went in to report for further instructions.

~:~

Elsewhere, Blaszni was sitting with two servants, all of them tucked silently into a little corner of his bedroom, quiet and still, like his mate had told him, waiting for the deep thrumming of weapons and the boom slam of fire strikes to end. Time passed, more than Blaszni thought would, before slowly, it subsided. He felt the heavy breathing of the boy to his left, prodded them both to their feet. Together, they went into the living room, listened for the sounds of safety. Eventually, they heard voices in the hallway, then announcements telling them that all was well, the Louts had been driven back and there were few wounded, fewer still dead. The three of them breathed relief, began to think of what they'd like to have for dinner. On the announcements, they began to read the infirmary list.

It wasn't real. He wasn't awake, he couldn't be - he must be dreaming. It felt like a dream; a terrible terrible dream like the ones where he was falling and could get no purchase, could make no good ground or find fingerholds anywhere. The world was slipping away beneath him. Dorano's name had been read aloud. Was he dead? Wounded? Missing? Blaszni began to feel like he was tilting sideways. Dorano's name had been read aloud. What did that mean? The servants were prodding him, giving him worried instructions and exchanging frightened looks, but he didn't know what to do or what to tell them or even where to go to find out if his husband, his love, his mate, his Dorano, was lying in the infirmary dead or alive. He closed his eyes and felt the slipping down begin. He let himself fall.

In the black, Dorano met him and for a moment, Blaszni though that maybe it meant that he was dead, Blaz was dead, and now they spoke again in the way that only the dead could, without constraint of time, place, or expectation. Then he felt fear and realized he must be only sleeping. He reached out to touch Dorano's face. It rippled beneath his touch, faded then reappeared. He sobbed inside. What did it mean? Nothing was clear. Why was he in this place? With only the black above and below him and no Dorano to make it right. He wondered what old Antrizil would have to tell him when he crossed the river. He reached again and now the apparition opened its mouth, tried to speak to him - to warn him, maybe? - and then it was gone, quick as if it had never been at all, and Blaszni wondered why he had let himself fall.

He woke up in the infirmary, in a bed next to Dorano's body. He screamed, and Dorano opened his eyes. They were black with blood, blinking unseeing out at him. Blaszni screamed again.


	18. Prelude

"What happened to him?"  
The Doctor sighed, shook his head.  
"Overexposure. Burns from a Lout weapon. Confusing, because we rarely see weaponry so primitive, even from them..." the Doctor cut himself off, realizing that Blaszni was likely very uninterested in this part of the story. The young human was looking pensively through the glass.  
"Your wolfe will heal, but..." he templed his fingers, somber, "It will take time."  
Blaszni was so still he seemed almost unresponsive.  
"I will take care of him. I will heal him."  
The Doctor looked at the little human with interest. He'd never heard him speak in this tone of voice before. Blaszni inclined his head slightly.   
"Thank you, Doctor. But I would like to take him home now."  
The Doctor nodded.  
"Of course. Go and see your mate, human. He will be wanting you."

In the opposite room, Dorano was waiting.

* * *

 **Colwinter, PreYear Nine (1st Moon)**

 

There were six more attacks over the winter, and now BlackForest seemed to be waiting for another. Róan spent the morning sitting in front of the TV, not watching cooking shows and wondering if this life really was any different than the one he would have led in the clan. Euan came by in the afternoons, when his stamina was up and the litter he now carried heavily did not drain so much of his energy. Róan still found it strange to see his brother's belly swollen, but he had somewhat forgotten about it in the last week, as his own body had begun to rebel against him, and he was a bit more tired and far more irritable than usual. Today was the first day he'd been sick and so now he felt sure he knew what the problem was. He glanced at the chrono. Four hours until Marik would be home. He missed Blaszni. His friend had been gone four months now with no message, no notes or images or even distant whispers. He was just gone. It reminded him of his father. It hurt.

Medin was in morning classes, and would probably spend his afternoon wandering the middle levels of the compound with his friends. They were young, and the possibility of attacks did not seem to so deeply terrify them.

In the meantime, Marik was on council for what to do about the attacks. The general consensus was that the best initial response would be an alliance - a reformation of two packs as one. SweetWater, their neighbors to the south, had recently undergone a famine and were in dire need of better cropping times. With BlackForest seeking to increase their population and fighting spread, perhaps now was the time for change. A banquet of both had been scheduled for the next moon, at the Festival of the Breaking Day. Marik had been enlisted to help prepare, and so indirectly, Róan had also become involved, and he was meant to be meeting Melbourne and Avion after noonmeal to discuss.

He looked outside again, at the falling snow. Falling snow always reminded him of home.

~:~

Roan was right, and Marik was ecstatic.


	19. Missing

**Winter, PreYear Nine (2nd Moon)**

The compound was alive with preparations. There were new tables being carved to accommodate all the guests, food being prepared a week in advance, hunts gone on twice daily, dances practiced and new cloths braided. Róan, somehow, had managed to find himself right in the middle of this. Although it wasn't really much of a mystery how - all betas had been enlisted to lend a hand in helping, and Róan had more or less woken up one day to find he'd been assigned to kitchen duty. That hadn't lasted long - only a moon into his first litter, his stomach hadn't quite settled enough for the work. After a disastrous first day taking in the potent smells of all the food, he was quickly reassigned.

Marik still looked at him with the same wonderstruck eyes every time he came home; he wanted to make love at every moment, and Róan had resorted to staying out late to avoid - he still knew better than to refuse. Euan, still heavy, had asked to be reassigned as well, and now they were both working evening shifts preparing dry meals and making cloth for beds and tables and gifts for the SweetWater wolfes. The young wolfes were enlisted to build temporary housing for the guests, and for nearly three weeks, everyone in the compound was insanely busy.

Marik had been leading a building team, and he'd been thinking all the while. Medin was back now, in his home and his care, moving about as usual and with bright eyes and gladness, and Marik was never more grateful. But there seemed to be thorns there - dangling threads in the fabric of Medin's happy outlook. Marik had seen him crying sometimes; had heard him wake up in the middle of the night. He wanted to settle the boy's mind; put him at ease and make it clear that Walker was finished with, done, and never coming back. There only seemed to be one way to do that.

~:~

Róan liked this part, he decided. He was leaning over a table, painting colorful designs onto the wood. Euan and Melbourne were with him, each on a different corner, and so far, they'd made good progress. It was just six days until the first arrivals, and all the finishing touches were being made.

Róan was one month along now, and still required to check in with the infirmary every three days. The nausea had faded, now that his body had adjusted to the influx of changes, but the depression hadn't quite lifted. It didn't help that his mate had seemed less than interested in anything he'd had to say over the past month. He'd make love to him and he'd hold him, but in conversation, it always seemed that his mind was elsewhere. Still, Róan tried. Euan, who had only three more months left, did his best to lift his brother's spirits.

"I felt the same way you did, Ro, at the beginning. Like I didn't want to do it anymore, like I couldn't handle it, like I just wanted to go home." Euan dipped his brush into more blue paint, spread it across the table in the space Róan had indicated. Melbourne looked up, taking quiet interest in the conversation, but kept his brush painting a steady shoreline.  
"But it faded, you know? Like all bad feelings - if you ignore them, they'll just fade away. So, don't worry, little brother - you'll be just fine."  
Melbourne paused, locked eyes with Róan. Melbourne's eyes were half amusement, half pity. Róan looked back down at his table.  
"And besides, this will be just the thing to bind you and Marik."  
Róan shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. His brother recognized the gesture.  
"Róan?"  
Róan looked up at his brother, pausing in his work. He forced a smile.  
"What? I agreed."  
"No...you shrugged. It's your disagreeing tell. What's going on?"  
Melbourne was looking at him expectantly. Suddenly Róan's throat began to feel very very tight.  
"It will not bind us."  
"Ro? What do you mean?"  
Euan looked worried now, very worried, and so Róan shook his head again to try and calm him or maybe make sense of his own thoughts.  
"Marik, my wolfe, he -"  
"Working hard, kitten?" a low, happy voice from behind made Euan jump. Loban smiled, but looked concerned. "Didn't scare you too much, did I?"  
Euan couldn't have grinned any wider. He slid one hand over his bulging stomach.  
"No." Loban came over and kissed his mate, put a hand on his belly.  
"Hello, Róan. Melbourne."  
Both nodded their greetings. The wolfe went on.  
"Beautiful table you're working on here - it will be a real pleasure for our guests."   
Mel retired his brush into a dish of water, looked around between the family members.  
"Well...I bet everyone's thirsty. I'll find some tea."

Mel always had a way, Euan decided, of quietly excusing himself just when it would be much appreciated. He waited until the other human was completely out of sight and earshot before turning from Loban and asking,  
"What were you going to say, Róan?"  
Loban looked interested now.  
"About what? What's going on?"  
"Marik's done something. Róan's upset. And he's with, you know. It's not good to be upset when you are carrying."  
Loban nodded seriously, and Róan silently wondered just when Euan had learned every fucking thing there was to know about carrying.  
"I'd really rather not talk about it."  
Euan shook his head, came closer and put one hand on Róan's shoulder. His eyes were sincerely worried. Róan felt guilty immediately.  
"Please...put my mind at ease? You are my only brother."  
Róan spared a glance at Loban, but spoke.

"Marik has lost interest in me...in everything. He does not speak to me anymore; he's always thinking and he stays away all day. When he's home, he asks about the litter, but when I try to answer back, it's as if he's already left again."  
Róan bit his lip.  
"I think he regrets the litter."  
Ro was serious, but the allegation seemed so preposterous that Loban laughed out loud. Róan threw a simmering glare at Euan about this and went on, speaking now only to his brother. His voice was low as he turned back to the table.  
"I don't want to lose my place here."  
Loban frowned; his voice was firm, but gentle.

"Róan, we are not barbarians. We do not abandon our mates, under any circumstances, for any reason. My brother may be distracted, but he has not forgotten you, he has not lost interest in you, and he will not abandon you."  
Róan's eyes began to mist up and he shrugged Loban's words off. He didn't need anyone's pity. Picking up the brush, he began to paint again, but his hand shook so he dropped the brush and put one hand to his stomach instead.  
"I don't feel well; I need to go lie down."  
Loban put his ears back in alarm.  
"Come. Let's go now. We'll take you."  
Róan shook his head.  
"No...Loban, I can't - if Marik knows I let you in..."  
Loban cut him off shortly.  
"Marik will forgive us both. Let's go."

They went together in tense silence, Loban trying to alternately slow down to let Euan keep pace, then speeding up to move Róan along quickly. They weren't very far from home when a bout of actual nausea came over him and he ran the rest of the way, leaving the door open behind him.

Loban ran after him and Euan entered moments afterwards, expecting to see Róan bent over the sink. He wasn't. He was on the floor, and Loban was kneeling at his side.


	20. It's Broken

When Marik got home, Loban was pacing in the front room. He growled immediately, put his ears back and was ready to defend. Loban looked at him, casually, shook his head, and went back to pacing. Marik hated him. His older brother always had a way of making him feel like a yipping pup.

"What are you doing here?"  
Loban stopped, looked at his brother.  
"You cannot smell it?"  
Marik furrowed his brow, mystified.  
"Smell? I -"

It hit him like a stone, and he raced past his brother, chasing the scent into the bedroom, where his mate was lying in bed with his brother, Euan, sitting beside him. Marik's heart was racing.  
"Róan!"  
His mate looked up, weakly, and waved. Fear subsided into worry as he rushed to his mate's side. He nuzzled his mate, took in the familiar scent of Róan, tinged with the sweetness of pregnancy, but waylaid by the ugly, thick scent of sickness.  
"What's going on?"  
Euan squeezed his brother's hand.  
"Róan collapsed; he hasn't been eating, apparently, and then there's the stress." Here, Euan looked pointedly at Marik, then back to Róan. Marik laid his ears back.  
"What stress?"  
Euan ignored him.  
"The doctors suspect a diabetic pregnancy, but they gave him a chew and it might pass."  
"What stress is he under," Marik repeated, growing angry, "And why wasn't I contacted?"  
"Róan," Euan snapped, "Didn't want to worry you."  
"You should have told me anyway!"   
Euan almost backed away - it was still difficult for him to challenge a voice of authority - but then his brother squeezed his hand and suddenly it didn't matter.  
"You should have taken better care of your mate!"   
Loban raised an eyebrow at the unexpected outburst from his generally meek mate.

Marik stepped back. His ears went flat.  
"Get out."  
"You couldn't make me."  
"GET OUT!"  
"I am his brother!"  
"GET. OUT!"  
Marik lunged at Euan and suddenly there was a snarling, growling, massive wolfe in between them. Euan cowered and Loban bared his teeth at Marik. Marik dropped his tail and backed off immediately, and Loban relaxed his muscles, shook his head.  
"Never again, Marik."  
His voice was warning. Marik couldn't meet his eyes, looked instead at Euan, who was standing near to Loban's back. He felt a tug on his hand and followed it down to meet Róan's eyes; his mate was watching him with a worried expression.  
"This is what stress he's under, Marik." Euan almost whispered from behind his mate's protection. "Your anger is making him sick."

Then they stood there, the three of them across from each other, just taking in the air, and suddenly Marik was angry again and he kicked over the little round bedside table. Róan flinched in time with the breaking glass. Euan moved to go to him, but Loban pulled his arm and held him back.  
"Euan, come. We should go. Marik can take care of him now."  
Euan looked back from his mate to Marik, clearly reluctant to leave his brother. Róan waved from across the room.  
"Go, Eu. It'll be fine. I'll see you tonight."  
Euan nodded, crossed the room, touched his brother's cheek, and went to the door. Marik turned to face his brother.  
"You get out as well."

Loban pushed himself off of the door frame and stalked towards the younger wolfe, who momentarily felt like stepping back. He bit down the visceral, first-line reaction. It was only a remnant of a childhood understanding. His brother had no draw over him now. His brother would not rule him. He straightened his back. Loban caught him by the neck, pulled him forward so that their foreheads touched and Marik could hear his pulse beating steady in his neck.  
"Take care of your mate, Marik. You get only one."

Loban was going to say more, but a small voice in the doorway interrupted them.  
"Alpha Marik?"  
Medin was home.

Worried eyes took in the strange company, the disarray and the broken glass on the floor. He took in Róan, lying still in the bed, and his gaze switched immediately, fearfully, to Marik. Too absorbed with glaring at Loban, Marik didn't notice. Róan released the grip he'd had on the cloth of Marik's robe and reached out a hand to Medin, who came quietly to him. The boy (but past fifteen now, and looking less so every day) climbed into the bed with him, nestling silently into the crook of his arm and too afraid to look at Marik.

"Is this how you live, little brother?" Loban asked his brother quietly. "Is this what you want?"  
Marik felt the resentment rise up again - his brother, his perfect brother, here again to save the day. Well, he'd be damned if he'd let him win again, and he'd be double damned if he let him think that Marik had been wrong. With both hands, he shoved his brother backwards, propelling him towards the door.  
"A life without you in it," Marik snarled, "is what I want."

Loban looked at him, really looked at him for a moment before he turned tail and was gone. The room felt empty without him. Róan exhaled slowly. Medin lifted his head, then turned back away and refused to look at Marik. Marik paced the room for a moment, casting one glance, then two at his mate and son, his little family. Then, before Róan could ask him to join them in bed, he turned, stepped over the broken glass, and left.

In his absence, Ro and Medin slept.


	21. Injury

**Winter, PreYear Nine (3rd Moon)**

The banquet was spectacular. Green and gold and blue and orange ribbons had been hung everywhere; the tables and bowls and walls were all painted, and the entire room glowed, lit up as if by a thousand fires. The SweetWater wolfes were polite enough; a bit roughshod, the BlackForest betas commented to each other, and maybe a bit lacking in civility, but kind enough and trustworthy. The banquet lasted three days; music and food were shared in excess; Róan tasted, for the first time, the bitter kafee drink which the southern betas told him they swore by. Euan and he dined together most meals; Loban was busy at work on negotiating treaty terms relating to some thing or the other, and Marik was absent as usual. Medin had spent the first two meals with them, then begged off to go dine by himself in the library, eager to explore the new additions brought by the foreign wolfes.

After the third meal, on the second day, Melbourne, Avion, and Virgil met Euan and Róan for tea on a small, hidden northern patio. It was cold, but the only place that, as Virgil described it, remained blessedly free of splendor. They sat bundled and under blankets, on the cold black chairs strewn haphazardly around the space and sipped tea from thick cups. Róan stared at the sky.  
"How is your time, Róan?" Melbourne opened the conversation. Róan shrugged.  
"Tiring. Doctors say it's normal, but I sleep all the time now."  
"And your mate?"  
"He's fine."  
"How do you like the banquet?"  
"There are strangers everywhere I look. It makes me feel as if I am very, very far away from home."  
Melbourne thoughtfully chewed a piece of melon. Avion twisted his fingers in the corner of his green blanket.  
"That's the essence of wolfish life."  
There was a crash down below somewhere, and Melbourne was the first to the railing, looking over, leaning down into the courtyard to see what was happening. A fight was going on between two wolfes - some betas stood the side, onlookers with no real intent to participate or end it, and some other wolfes were dashing out of buildings, to help on either side. Melbourne laughed heartily.  
"A fine display of wolfish diplomacy. Come, Euan, see how well your brother-in-law throws his weight."  
Róan's head jerked up and both of them were at Melbourne's side in an instant. His breath, coming in puffs, panted grey against the winter sky. He swore.  
"Such language! And in front of the litter, no less."  
Róan didn't reply. Melbourne looked aside at him.  
"Are you going to go down there?"  
Róan narrowed his eyes.  
"What for? Let them fight. Marik's a man of his own making. I haven't even known where he's been all banquet - I'm certainly not interested in it now."  
Melbourne looked surprised and turned his attention back to the fight below. Little tiny wolfish figurines seemed to be dancing around each other, flipping and fighting and shifting back and forth.  
"Ordinarily, Róan, I'd agree with you, only...they don't seem to be planning to stop."  
Róan shrugged.  
"Ro," Euan suggested gently, "Perhaps we'd better go see what we can do."  
Róan rolled his eyes, feeling distinctly recalcitrant, but followed his brother into the hall, down the way to the banquet halls.

~:~

Dorano wasn't talking. He hated it when Dorano wasn't talking.  
"Won't be long, alpha." he offered, trying to break the silence. "Be landing there shortly and then we'll just be getting on our way."  
Dorano grunted, shifted into his wolfe and then paced a circle in the shuttler, laid down and began to sleep. Blaszni took that as a non-subtle hint that his wolfe was not quite interested in conversation at the moment. He focused instead on piloting the shuttler, navigating the wind currents and monitoring their bearings. Just another hour and they'd be there. He could see the old man and Dorano could get his healing and they'd both get their bearings back and maybe then they'd be OK. Maybe then he could have a litter. Blaszni began humming quietly to himself. Just one more hour and they would be home.

~:~

Blood was dripping from Marik's nose, seeping into his mouth, staining his teeth. He still wouldn't stop. Wasn't going to stop, couldn't stop. This wolfe had no respect. He would show him - he would make him see. He landed another blow, then another, shifted and bit twice. Went back bipedal and someone was calling his name.  
"Marik!"  
It was Róan, his love, his mate. He was standing out from the crowd, calling his name. He paused only a moment and the other wolfe got the upper hand, flipped him out across the icy ground. Rage blinded him. He lunged. Róan moved closer, called his name again. The wolfe bit through the skin of his arm. Pain made him furious. He ignored his mate. That could come later. He snapped his teeth, launched himself through the air, shifted mid-throw and landed full weight on the SweetWater wolfe. They both skidded across the ground, ripping up earth and skin and suddenly careening into the crowd.  
"Marik, STOP!"

Róan's voice sounded more frightened now, panicked, but this was almost it - it was almost the end and then he would be the victor and his mate would be proud and the SweetWater wolfes would learn that they had to treat his packmembers better. He snarled. Just one snap, just one more bite and then - the other wolfe struck first. Marik had misjudged how far he was from him, hadn't accounted for speed over distance. The blow landed hard, the wolfe and Marik and the shredded earth skidding out, across the ground, towards the crowd, towards Róan.

Then there was the desperate crack of a human skull hitting the ground and the uproar of a crowd suddenly moved to action and Marik wasn't even sure what he'd done until suddenly there were hands around his arms and his alpha's guards were lugging him to his feet. His alpha stepped in front of him, shook his head, and landed a solid blow. Everything went black.

~:~

He woke up in the dark, in a holding cell in the lower levels. Róan was in the infirmary, recovering in stasis from his trauma. He begged to go; the guards told him that his brother Loban had been sent there instead. There were papers to be signed, matters to settle. Róan, they told him, had lost the litter.

Marik felt sick. He felt pitiful, angry, evil, wrong. He wanted to cry. He wasn't sure who he was anymore. Where was the SweetWater wolfe? This had all been his fault. He curled four-legged in the corner of his cell and fell into restless sleep. No matter how he tried to fix it, things just always seemed to want to go wrong.


	22. The Setting Sun

It took the Council six hours to come up with an assessment of what had happened and what they should do. Marik waited, silent, in his holding cell, tail shielding his back against the cold of the stone walls. Róan was upstairs sleeping, in the blue-and-white bed in an all-glass room in the infirmary. Medin had stayed with him, Euan coming in to join them and Loban going on to make a play for his brother's case with the Elders. And all the time, Marik just waited. They brought him a meal at four. He didn't want it.

In the grey cool dimness of the lower level lights, well sheltered from the setting sun, the enormity of his madness came upon him.

~:~

When his brother came, there was no happiness in his face, only fear and a grim relief that Marik was, at this moment, still alive. Loban had fought hard for him, Marik was sure, and just as sure, he knew he'd failed. Marik hung his head. What a silly way to die. The guards who had brought him stepped away, parted, and only Loban was left, staring in between the bars of his younger brother's cell and wondering if anything ever could have been different. But Marik had always been just who he was, bold and eager, and temperamental without apology. He had not been so mad, perhaps, not eaten up with anger and lust for fighting and rage as he was now, but he had always been himself. Nothing had ever changed that.

Loban wrapped two fingers around the bar, his tail heavy and still against his left thigh. Marik watched him, watched his legs flex and catch and then stand still. Watched his brother not speak.  
"They're going to destroy me, aren't they?"  
"You killed your own mate's litter."  
Marik had no response for this, and so silence and hatred and sorrow and love passed between them for a moment and then Loban spoke again.  
"They want to know what you wish to happen with Medin."  
Marik looked up, into his brother's eyes. They were shielded, dim.  
"You won't be allowed to see him. They refused my plea for goodbyes."  
Marik let his eyes back down, raced them across the tile, the stone, the eager eating coldness of this box they had put him in. He didn't know what to do.  
"I will take him in, Marik, if you allow me to."  
Suspicion flickered in his eyes for a second, maybe two - had Loban planned this? All of this? Set him up to steal his family and his home, and - no, no, Loban was his brother, his prideful brother, bent on always doing right. He would not shame them in such a way, but why did he want Medin? Couldn't he leave Marik one thing to just be his, and his alone? He couldn't have even left him alone in his condemnation. Why had he even come here?

Loban traced the thoughts in his brother's eyes, saw the shift and tense and lips that he'd taught to speak move to growl and felt such sorrow for him that for a moment, he couldn't breathe himself. He took in air, swallowed, stood tall.  
"Marik? Would you have me take him?"  
Marik seemed to struggle to come back to himself, and with honest supplication, looked up at his brother once more.  
"Yes. Please, take care of my family."

~:~

It was only an hour later when they took him out, led him away from the cell, away from the lower level, last home he'd seen and last he'd ever know, and walked him between seven guards out to the fields beyond the Eastern Gate. For one frightened minute, he wanted to run, just run - surely there was space enough, and time? And they would be unaware...but then he would die a coward's death, a thousandfold worse than what faced him now. He thought of Róan, lying sweet beside him, and so hurt and so patient, and always so forgiving. Would he think that Marik had forgotten about him? That he hadn't wanted to say goodbye. He remembered the first night he had owned him, the first night he'd taken Róan in his arms and the human had been truly his. He remembered Medin, finding him, taking him in as he had. He remembered having to help him walk, getting annoyed because Medin seemed to always move slower than he'd like, but then suddenly one day, he grew long legs and bursts of speed and left Marik in the dust. He thought of Walker and his heart grew full with pain and unadulterated rage. He thought of home, of his mother who he'd known for only a day, his father, his brother Loban, the three of them all that had been left after everything. He thought of Arem'mir. What color would the skies be on Arem'mir tonight? The same color as his eyes. His heart ached to go there now.

A long time walking, then they reached the farthest field. There, they took his clothes, shirt first, then pants, shoes, and all the braic that Róan had given him since they'd been bonded. They left his hair alone, pushed him naked and shivering between them to the very farthest reaches of BlackForest land. At the sixth marker that meant no more territory here, they stopped, turned, formed a wall around him with their bodies and the river. Marik met the eyes of all but one of them. Zesteren had finished his training that very same year; this was the position he'd been given. Marik swallowed hard, took one long look at the sky. The night was dark; the moon was dim in the distance. Night would fall soon. With open eyes and a beating heart, he raised his eyes against the setting sun.


	23. Indomitable Passage of Time

Loban had suffered long enough, the Council had decided, for his only brother's weakness. Let him go, they said. Send him away. Exile. The word was fell like water into Loban's heart. Exile. Let him go. Send him away. His brother would yet live. Loban's love for his brother had not been lost on the Elders.

Later in that week, they helped Medin to pack up his things; his room in Loban and Euan's quarters was prepared. Róan was under observation still, having reacted poorly to the loss, to the sickness, to losing his mate. When the doctors weren't listening and Euan had gone, Loban asked him if he'd have liked to have gone with him. Róan thought for long minutes.  
"No."  
Loban could breathe.  
Euan was getting very near to the whelp, and the trip down to see Róan was becoming more arduous. Loban told him he'd simply have to get better. Róan smiled a little, and looked away, out the window, as he seemed to always like to do. It was difficult, the nurses said, to get him out of bed. Even new bonds were not easily broken. Twice, he woke shaking in the middle of the night, his heart racing and skin cold, and knew that something had happened. Some terror had come upon Marik and soon he would be no more. When that happened, he couldn't sleep for days. Medin came to see him all the time, after school and before, and even ate all his meals in the infirmary until Loban and Róan both scolded him off it. One more week, and Ro had built his strength back up enough to go home. He didn't want to, said he would rather not see those things he'd shared with someone who was now, for all intents and purposes, dead and gone. Loban asked him if he ever wished to have Marik back. Ro said that he'd found he rather liked being alone.

Medin went to school, came home, read books, studied well, showed all the obedience that Marik had accused him of lacking when he'd been around. He read Russian to Róan, who pretended to listen politely, but still didn't understand. Melbourne came by, once or twice a week, to visit. His lit was new, and he said he enjoyed the time away. Sometime during the week, Loban packed and moved Euan's things; workers came and the quarters were cleared by the afternoon. There were many new families in the pack these days, and someone would surely need a home.

Once, Medin asked him if he'd loved Marik. Róan shook his head, said he didn't know; he'd known him some months, he'd been his mate and that was it. Medin didn't ask anything else, just went back to reading. That night, Róan left Euan's house for the first time since he'd come; he made his way out for a walk, found a balcony in the north corner. When he returned, Medin was already sleeping, and a braic he'd painted with a picture of the sunset was lying on Róan's pillow.

In the fifth moon, when the air had just begun to get hot in the daytimes, Euan whelped four little bright pieces of life: a lit, all healthy, one human, three tailed. Róan went to the birth, but unwhelped betas were not allowed in; he stayed with him afterwards, waiting by his brother's side for him to wake or the lit to stir. Neither happened for hours. The next day, Medin came and waited with him. It occurred to Róan, during one of these days, during one of these sessions where they sat together in a silent room, that Medin had probably loved Marik in a way that Róan never could. He had raised him, after all, and saved him, and loved him, and gone to war and died in his name.

Róan wondered if Medin felt responsible. He had changed since Ro had known him; no more little shy child, no more Dinny or Dina, or any of the names he'd invented to call himself; no more silly games or sneaking out, no more loud, chirpy friends and braids in his hair and fits of unstoppable laughter. Why? Because of Walker, and Marik, and Róan and Medin, and the indomitable passage of time. Róan thought on this a while, next time he went for a walk. When he came back this time, Euan was awake and sitting, and Medin had two of the litter cradled in his arms. Róan began to eat downstairs again, sitting with Medin and Loban at Virgil and Avion's table.


	24. Only A  Year

**Autumn, PreYear Nine (9th moon)**

In the ninth moon, Medin reached 16. He refused a celebration, pointing out to Euan that he didn't have any suitors, and so there was nothing that made this day different from the last. He had breakfast alone with Roan, then spent the day working in the fields instead. Euan had tried to coax him into a special gathering in the evening, but he'd adamantly refused. He had other things on his mind. Giving due respect to tradition, he went alone and spent an hour in the temple in the afternoon, but returned looking relatively unperturbed and went back to work. He bathed as usual, changed clothes, and came to dinner with Roan, Euan, Loban, Virgil and Virgil's mate, Clorst. Virgil was on his best behavior, he noted, picking at his food, with the old wolfe around. Clorst smiled at Medin, inclined his head and asked him whether he had any suitors. Medin looked cautiously at Roan and answered that he had none yet, but he was sure they would come. Clorst seemed to accept this, then turned the conversation to Roan.

"It has been some time for you, hasn't it, since your mate was gone?"  
Roan ate a carrot, chewed and swallowed.  
"Six months."  
Clorst mulled this thoughtfully, spinning his glass of wine in his right hand.  
"Two seasons past. Perhaps it is time to move on?"  
Roan shrugged.  
"In due time."  
Clorst took a sip of his wine.  
"You are young yet, Roan. You have a standing duty to the pack."  
Roan's jaw twitched. Virgil covered his mate's hand with his own.  
"Alpha, perhaps this topic is difficult for Roan, with the son of his mate in attendance."  
Clorst nodded.  
"Of course. I didn't think. My apologies, Roan."  
Loban raised some point about the summer harvest and the coming winter stores, and the conversation drifted gently off into other matters.

~:~

At home, Euan and Roan went to bathe, and Loban went to oversee an inventory in the storage areas. Medin went alone into his room to sleep. That night, he dreamed of his father.

 

 **ColWinter, PreYear Nine (12th Moon)**

Roan had a required afternoon meeting with a wolfe who'd just been appointed an Alpha guard; Ro had wanted to skip it, complaining of general malaise, but Loban ignored this briskly and told him it was for his own good. Euan, whose lit was weaned and coming very close to being taken for the nursery, was too distracted to help. And so, with everyone bustling around him, moving all different directions, rushing around to do this, put on that, feed this, and make plans for that, Medin found himself very much alone.

He was alone a lot these days. Sometimes he felt like he was always alone, existing in a world separate from everyone else. Sometimes he felt like he was sleepwalking. Occasionally he imagined himself screaming, shaking everyone from their trance, jolting himself out of this bad dream and back into reality, where Marik was not gone and Roan was OK and Walker had never hurt him. Sometimes, when he could get permission to go out far enough into the fields (not hard to do now that he'd been working there for months), he did just that - he screamed and screamed and hoped like hell that one time, it would work. It never did. Summer came, and went, and still Marik was gone. Fall came and he was alone. Winter came, and he had no father. Light snows fell on BlackForest. Medin went for walks alone.

Sometimes he collected pebbles; other times, leaves or sticks. Anything that he knew he could keep. One afternoon, he went out collecting pebbles, but set his basket down and forgot it by the path. When he went back for it, the handle was damp and there were fresh paw prints in the snow. He didn't tell Loban.

The next day, he went farther out on his path, closed his eyes, and turned his back to the forest. He stood a long time, long enough that his fingers were beginning to get numb with cold and his skin was growing raw in the breeze. From nowhere, so light that it may just have been a part of the wind, a hand touched him, snaked around his side to make a fist over his heart. Medin opened his eyes. Walker stood to his right. Medin just stared at him for a moment. It had been only a year, but the change was remarkable. Walker stood several inches taller than he had, and his body sat more heavily on his bones. His face had a long scar down the entire right side. He looked much, much older. Neither of them had any idea what to say. After an eternity, Walker smiled.  
"Medin." he said, and reached out a hand to touch Medin's face.


	25. In the Wind

He couldn't explain. There were no words he could say that would make it make sense to any of them, so he didn't even try. He just left; went back to his room and packed a few bags and some food and all the braic he could carry, and he left. Loban was with his guard. Euan was with the lit. Roan was away.

At the last minute, he couldn't stand the suspense, so he wrote a note.   
Roan found it as soon as he came back and went running to the window. There was nothing to see. He tore through hallways, down stairs, through doors which he banged into at first because the locks were on, then out, there, into the fields. The last Roan saw of him was his back, growing smaller as he disappeared off into the distance, feet pounding, trying to keep up with a wolfe who ran twice his speed.

I am going to look for my father, the note read while flapping free of Roan's hand, only one corner clenched tight against the frozen breeze.   
Walker and I are bonded, and always have been in heart. I am going to look for Marik. I am going to bring our family back.

And then Medin was gone, no longer even a sound on the wind, and Roan was entirely by himself again, watching his breath rise into steam in the icy colwinter wind.


End file.
